The Bad Neighbor
by firesnap
Summary: Written for the reel torchwood Challenge. Rhys Williams knows there's something wrong with his neighbor. It's a shame none of Torchwood believes him. Contains: Canon pairings, violence and Jack and Rhys bickering while trying to save the day. Pre-CoE.
1. Part One

**Author's Notes**: Hello! This is my first particularly long fic. It was written for the reel_torchwood challenge. The premise is to take a film and use it to inspire a Torchwood story. So, this is mine. My film was_ Fright Night_. Don't go looking for something too similar to the film - I really only took inspiration from some of its most general plot points. Set Pre-CoE.

Rhys Williams was hungover. Correction, this wasn't any normal hangover that a cup of coffee and a plate full of greasy eggs could fix. This was one of those hangovers that he could feel before his eyes opened fully; the one that twisted the stomach into knots and made his actual body just ache. Rhys Williams was bloody hungover, and he knew it. Fortunately, on the sinfully sunny morning when he woke up in such a state, he was greeted with the smell of rich coffee and sausage drifting from his kitchen. Rubbing the sleep and gunk off his face, he stretched one arm lazily out to grope the space next to him. Empty. That seemed… unlikely.

Staggering out of bed, Rhys wrapped his dressing gown loosely around his thick frame and half-tumbled into the brightly lit kitchen. The smell of food and coffee assaulted him further and he guffawed at the sight greeting him. His Gwenie, his wife who could barely find her way out of bed in the morning, let alone to the kettle, was sitting at their small kitchen table drinking coffee. She was immaculate; well dressed in her skinny black trousers, long sweater and boots. That wasn't the surprising bit. His wife was always gorgeous. Nor, really, was the fact that a young man was sitting across from her, eating eggs and reading the paper in a pair of denims and a red button up. Alright. Considering the young man was Ianto Jones, the jeans should've been a bit of surprise, but Rhys had seen them, or him, last night.

The thought of last night's drinking made Rhys's head pound again and he grunted a greeting at the two Torchwood operatives before heading toward the coffee. Bloody Harkness had fucked off to wherever he went when there wasn't an apocalypse looming and the Welsh Contingency of World Defenders had taken the night off as well. The three of them had gone out the night before to watch a game at Rhys and Gwen's local, and then played a bit of darts. The drinking had been heavy, Rhys would admit that. They'd all overindulged to the point that he remembered openly cackling at the moon eyes his poor cousin Liz had made at Ianto for hours. At the end of the night, Gwen had dragged Ianto to sleep on their couch rather than risk him wandering off on his own or Liz dragging him into a corner when he wasn't in his most coherent frame of mind. Rhys knew he'd been in a state when they'd finally turned in for the evening. What he didn't understand was how the two of them were up, dressed for the day and chipper as red squirrels without even a suggestion of a long night.

"So. You two replaced by little green men? Do I need to call Captain High 'n' Mighty?"

Ianto looked up from his paper and shot a sly smile in Gwen's direction. They had a silent conversation entirely out of eyebrows and smirks, then Ianto took a drink of his coffee, nodded and returned to reading the paper. Rhys audibly sighed and held in a glare. Their little sibling act had gotten worse over the past few months, not that Rhys blamed them; they saw each other more than Rhys saw his own brother. However, it wasn't what he wanted to deal with first thing in the morning when there was a hangover attacking his senses and his stomach felt like it wanted to crawl back to bed with or without him. Gwen laughed, pulled a chair out and motioned for Rhys to take a seat. Slowly, and still with a bit of suspicion, Rhys did as he was asked. On the table, by a plate of eggs and sausage, was a tiny green pill. "What's this then," Rhys asked as he picked up the tiny tablet. He held it up in the sunlight and examined it with as much of a squint as his pounding headache would allow. It was a dull, pale green and gel filled. The plastic-like coating glistened in the natural light.

"Just take it." Gwen squeezed Rhys's hand before digging back into her breakfast. "You'll feel better. We're fine, yeah? It's a gift from a friend for nights like the last one." Rhys shrugged. If it really was a plot to invade Earth by little green men, it wasn't a very good one. Corrupting the best local lorry manager in Cardiff didn't seem like a huge priority on any world domination plan. He swallowed the pill, which left a strange, fruity taste in his mouth, and washed it down with a quick gulp of hot coffee.

After a moment, maybe two because Rhys couldn't remember how long he'd been staring at his coffee cup, the pounding in his head began to subside. The nauseous, tight feeling of his hangover slipped away and he nearly gasped aloud with relief. He glared at his two breakfast companions and made a small huffing noise in his throat. "Alright. Now what was that?"

"Rough Morning remedy," Ianto replied.

"Well. Special Torchwood version anyway," Gwen continued.

"It's better than a glass of water and a parametacol."

"Very true."

Rhys raised a hand to stop them there. Hangover or not, It was a bit hard to suppress his irritation at their super-secret club talk when they went on like that. "Next time you're going to give me weird alien drugs, you warn me," he cautioned. "Today I'm going to hold off on being angry because that little fellow was brilliant. I feel great. Better than I did before the booze. I swear, I thought I wasn't going to make it through breakfast." Gwen patted his hand and smiled beautifully. Gorgeous wife, she was, if a bit sneaky.

"Like we said, it's a gift, not something to get used to having"

"Perks of employment and all – when we can sneak it away."

Gwen leaned over and kissed Rhys on the cheek. "And now, Ianto and I've got to go into work, lover."

Rhys nodded between mouthfuls. He offered to do the washing up so they could be on their way – least he could do, considering Gwen had given him wonderful alien remedies and Ianto had made breakfast (at least, he assumed it was Ianto, as the food was edible). He was thanked when the two stood up and then Rhys's mouth twisted in confusion. "That's not your usual work get up, is it, Ianto?" He never could get why Ianto insisted on wearing such nice clothes to work. He seemed like such a normal kid otherwise, and Rhys knew that job had to be hell on clothes. Rhys couldn't make it through his day without getting something on his shirt and, well, while his job was certainly satisfying, it couldn't be messier than catching aliens.

"It'll make it until we get back. I've got my razor and a couple changes of clothes there." As soon as the words left Ianto's mouth he pulled a face like he'd accidentally insulted someone's mum. Gwen cackled and smacked Ianto roughly on the arm as she grabbed her purse.

"I knew it. I knew you'd been staying again. Do you even go home anymore or are you kept too busy?"

"Oh, shut up, Gwen Cooper."

The sound of mock bickering followed Ianto and Gwen out of the flat. Rhys shrugged when he heard the door click shut behind them. Apparently, saving the world for a living didn't really change office dynamics all that much. He shoved his mouth full of the last of the remaining sausages and scratched his head absently. It was nearly time to start the action packed adventures of Lorry-Man and the Transporters of Doom anyhow.

Who needs aliens to make life interesting?

* * *

><p>Around six, after a ridiculously long day of work, Rhys was officially home and officially parking his car to go open a beer and watch some bad television. Gwen predicted that she wouldn't be done for another hour, so in typical fashion, Rhys figured he had until around seven or seven thirty to start dinner if he wanted it done before she got home. Today had gone well, if a bit boring, in his world. He'd picked up some new contracts. His drivers were happy. Torchwood's magic green hangover remedy had done wonders and if Bevie the Bookkeeper hadn't seen Rhys arguing animatedly with Ianto over Newport's rugby skills then no one would have known of his overindulgent night out. As it were, the ladies and gents of his office thought he still had the stamina and recovery time of someone in his early twenties and if that didn't chase away any lingering alcohol effects, then nothing would. Suddenly, Rhys was jolted out of his recollection of his day. A loud crash sounded above him, and Rhys nearly jumping from his skin. On the balcony of the third floor, Rhys saw a shadowy figure and he sagged in relief. Just the new neighbor messing about outside.<p>

Gwen and Rhys's flat was part of a five unit structure with three floors. Theirs was a nice sized space on the second floor, with two tenants below them and one to the right of them. The third floor had been empty since about a year of their living here, when the owner of the building had moved to Calais. The space, from the brief glimpses Rhys had seen of it, was massive and fitted with top of the line fixtures and permanents. It'd been enough for Rhys to ponder, for at least a few months, if he and Gwen could have afforded its overly inflated price on his salary and Gwen's then pittance for being a constable. He'd forgotten about the space until about three weeks ago when a moving truck, not Harwood's he remembered noting sourly, had pulled up late in the afternoon. Apparently, the price had gone down and now there was a tenant. A poncy tenant with little regard for his neighbors.

Rhys had met him once, just a few days after move-in, while Gwen had been out containing or investigating somewhat-living store mannequins on Queen Street. Jerry Dandrige had been obnoxiously handsome, even more than Captain Jack. He'd had darks spiky hair, lush green eyes and a strong Roman nose and jawline. He'd worn a pair of designer jeans, a well-made dress shirt and a sporty blazer. Even Rhys had found it hard to pull his eyes away, though he'd die before he'd admit it to most. Jerry had been polite, if a bit distant. He was from Canada, he'd told Rhys. He'd move to Cardiff for some consulting work and got a great deal on the flat for a short-term lease. Rhys had nodded, taking in Jerry's taste in clothes that seemed to rival even Ianto's inner fashionisto and the flash car he'd seen outside. Jerry had a bit of cash to spare, obviously. He also came off as one of those blokes with too much free time andtoo much ego Silently thanking the H&M store props that kept Gwen from being there to fawn over the neighbor, Rhys had bid his farewells and tried to go on with his life.

Jerry had not been a good neighbor since then, feeding much into Rhys's smug first impressions. Loud parties, drawn and exhausted looking girls and boys leaving in the morning, and a general air of arrogance and inconsideration just leaked from the flat above. Rhys never saw Jerry go to work, or even leave the house during the day. It seemed the man worked from home, but if that was the case, why did he need to move to Cardiff to consult someone at all? The whole thing hackled him. Gwen gently teased and said it was a bit of envy, but no, it didn't feel like that at all. Alright, he was a little envious every time he had to park his practical sedan next to Jerry's pricey little number, but really, Rhys was a big enough man to admit when it was Jealously and when it was something else entirely.

Forcing a frown from his face, Rhys waved up at Jerry—just to be polite - as he checked the locks on his car. Jerry didn't see him or the arrogant bugger was too involved in his evening contemplation to bother with him. Rhys looked up again to give Jerry a glare but froze. In the well-lit parking area Jerry's hands, draped over the balcony, were clearly visible. They were also clearly covered in something dark and reddish. Blood? Torchwood must have been rubbing off on him because the second things took a suspicious turn, Rhys instinctively scurried toward the side of the building, out of Jerry's line of sight, to get a better look. There was definitely blood, or something similar, on Jerry's shirt and hands. Rhys swallowed a gulp of air. It was probably the something else though, wasn't it? It was a bit dark. Jerry could be painting, or cooking or doing any activity that could be a bit messy. Muffled voices made Rhys look up again. A girl, probably in her mid-twenties, was on the balcony now and she looked horrid. Actually, the girl herself was gorgeous – all long legs and raven hair – but the state of her was enough to raise hairs on Rhys's arms. Her skin was pale with dark circles under her eyes, and she seemed to be shaking. Jerry looked annoyed with her and growled something Rhys couldn't make out before roughly grabbing the girl's armand dragging her back inside. The door to the balcony slamming filled the air and Rhys sagged against the wall.

What the hell had that been about then? Was his neighbor running some kinkfest upstairs? After taking a couple of deep breaths, Rhys headed up to his own flat. His mind must have been playing with him – making him see the worst in someone he already didn't care for that much. He did it to Jack often enough and, he'd admit it easily, this guy reminded him a bit too much of Captain Toothy-Grin. He'd go upstairs, have his beer and cook some dinner for the missus and then, hopefully, his overactive imagination would calm down. Once inside, the tension in Rhys's muscles relaxed considerably and he exhaled slowly. Yeah, just stress.

Gwen didn't come home that night, but Rhys wasn't too bothered about it. He'd been home about an hour when he'd got a text from Ianto.

_G's fine. Sentient ooze frolicking in Splott. Ate her mobile. Or mating with it. Can't tell. Don't wait up. Also, kisses. From her, not me._

Rhys blinked a few times before reading the message again. That would never stop being surreal. He sent a reply to Ianto, thanking him and reminding Gwen to be safe. Then he had dinner, put up the leftovers, drank some more beer and ignored the mysterious thumping coming from the floor above.

Rhys was off the next day, so he didn't mind waking up when his wife stormed into their bedroom at half past six covered in flaking. dried purple…stuff. She was holding a biohazard bag and raised a finger menacingly to silence Rhys before he could even groggily open his mouth. "Not one word, Rhys Williams. Not one word. I'm going to take a shower. I'm going to stop smelling like cheese and I'm going to sleep for ten hours. I don't want one word otherwise."

Rhys nodded dumbly as Gwen stormed off into the bath, cursing under her breath the entire way. He made out the words 'explosion,' 'ruined new shirt,' and 'stupid Jack' before he let his head hit the pillow again.

"Did you at least get your phone back?" A half-garbled scream met his ears and he heard a door slam before he fell back asleep. Bloody Torchwood.

The rest of the day was easy for Rhys. He picked up, cleaned the floor of any weird purple flakes of dried goo and did a bit of shopping. He watched some football, relaxed and generally enjoyed a day without chaos. Gwen woke up later in the afternoon, staggering out of bed in her usual fashion with her hair pointing in every direction and a yawn wracking through her body.

"You're always such a picture when you wake up," Rhys joked fondly while flipping through the channels. "There's some leftovers in the fridge for you. Eggplant parm."

Gwen scratched her head and tried to smooth down some of the waves of unruly hair. "That'll be lovely after some tea." She put the kettle on and grabbed a throw from a nearby chair and then went to settle next to Rhys on the sofa. Once she was settled in next to him, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Did the ooze thing not go so well?"

Gwen scrunched up her nose. "It really was more of a goo. Multiple goos. Or a jellyfish. A swarm of land jellyfish."

"And one ate your mobile. Lucky it didn't eat one of you instead."

"Er. I don't think it did it on purpose. I sort of…dropped it."

"You sort of dropped your phone on a land jellyfish?"

At least Gwen had the decency to look abashed for a moment. She stared absently at Chef Ramsay going through dirty kitchens before answering again. "I wasn't really paying attention. It snuck up on me. I got startled, dropped it and the jelly sort of… rolled over it."

"How, exactly, did it sneak up on you?"

Gwen half-heartedly poked Rhys in the stomach. "Stop it, you. Jack said they were friendly but not very smart. He and Ianto went off to gather the ones we knew of into a… jar or something. I was watching the SUV. Playing Brick," she admitted.

"And the exploding?"

"The mobile signal made it excitable. Jack thought he could counter it with something on his wrist strap. It countered it. Into exploding."

Rhys laughed until he caught Gwen's expression. He tried to cover the rest with a cough but he couldn't hide how his eyes twinkled.

"You're awful."

"You were covered in purple slime."

Gwen huffed and went back to watching their show. Rhys got up when the kettle boiled. He made them two cups of tea and they just lay against each other, enjoying warmth and subpar entertainment. Secretly, these were Rhys's favorite moments. The moments where he could pretend his wife wasn't a modern day super hero and didn't come home early in the morning smelly and covered in dried alien bits. Right now, they were just Gwen and Rhys. Watching bad telly and sipping on their tea. No Torchwood. No Captain Jack. No dead co-workers or fear that one day, when Torchwood contacted Rhys, it wouldn't be about an eaten cell phone.

Once the cooking show ended, Gwen stretched against Rhys and looked up at him. "We still have that DVD, you know."

"Yeah, the one about the dragons. Waited to watch that with you."

"Mm. And as good as your leftovers sound… already hot food sounds good too. You could get us a takeaway, I could clean up and we'll watch our DVD?"

Rhys nodded. He was hungry and there weren't enough leftovers to feed them both. "Yeah, you can take the egg parm to work tomorrow. I'll get us something from that Portuguese place round the corner?"

Gwen grinned and leaned up to kiss Rhys's nose and then his mouth. "You spoil me." She then squeaked when Rhys playfully smacked her backside as she stood.

"I do. Brush your teeth while you're at it. Your breath could be better."

"Oi!" The bedroom door shut and Rhys grinned. He gathered his keys, wallet and coat and headed out, locking the door behind him.

Rhys was whistling as he walked, staring at his mobile and texting Daff, when he collided with someone outside. "Sorry," he blurted. "Wasn't paying attention at -" he stopped when he looked up and saw Jerry, the neighbor, looking at him in a haughty fashion. "Right. Well. It was an accident."

Jerry gruffed an apology in return and reached behind him to pull up a large canvas sack. "Moving something, mate?" Rhys couldn't help but be curious. The sack was old, worn and covered in various stains. Rhys sniffed their air pointedly. This was the closest proximity Rhys had ever shared with his neighbor, and he smelled strongly of earth and, randomly, strong ginger.

"Yeah. Some art project."

"Ah. You do a lot of art projects?"

Jerry laughed, though it sounded hollow to Rhys's ears. He tapped the bag he'd been dragging. Rhys held in a surprised noise when he saw the fingernail on Jerry's hand slice neatly through the canvas material. They looked sharpened, now that Rhys was looking, and seemed to have some sort of gray tint to them. It could've been nail varnish, Rhys tried to reason. However, how many people could cut through thick material like that?

Rhys awkwardly stood there for a moment before coughing and motioning that he'd move out of the way. It wasn't normal to just stand in doorways staring at the neighbors and their odd fingernails. Jerry gruffed again and pushed past Rhys toward the stairs to his flat. "Have a good night," Rhys lamely called after him.

Jerry turned around abruptly, with a speed that seemed unsettling. "You too, good neighbor." His teeth flashed, a bit too bright and he laughed. The laugh, loud and fake, made Rhys's blood go cold. He stood until Jerry was out of sight, a hand on the wall, and took in what he just saw.

Jerry's face, upon closer inspection, just looked fake. Plastic. Like it'd be molded into some facsimile of human. The bag he'd been carrying looked mostly empty. That wasn't what unsettled Rhys. The stains on the canvas sack, first off, seemed strange, mostly because they were the dull brown color that he was used to seeing on Gwen's shirts. Was it blood? If it'd been an art project, that would make sense – could be paint or varnish. Who carried art around in a large canvas sack though?

Most damning though, had been when Jerry opened his mouth to laugh. Rhys had seen it then, just a glimpse, and he wondered how he couldn't have noticed it before.

Jerry's tongue had been pointed. Like a snake.

* * *

><p>Rhys made it home about fifteen minutes later, takeaway clutched to his chest. Gwen was dressed, sitting at her laptop reading her emails. Her hair was tamed and tied back behind her head and she wore a long sweatshirt – one of Rhys's old ones – and a pair of dark leggings. She looked so much like she had when they'd met at University that it made Rhys's heart ache.<p>

"Good evening, my missus I've got the food you ordered," Rhys smiled and flourished toward the food he'd set on the table. "Best delivery service in town, I am. I put it on the table and deliver it with a grin. Don't even have to tip."

Gwen's eyes lit up and she closed the laptop with a definite click. "Excellent. Was starting to get hungry," she said as she eagerly tore into the containers. Catching Rhys's annoyed look, she flashed her gap tooth grin. "And miss you, of course."

"Damn right."

Once the food was served and they were settled back into the couch, they tucked into their dinners. Rhys found he wasn't particularly hungry. Tonight's encounter with Jerry was digging at him too much. With a sigh, he put his fork down and looked at Gwen.

"I think your job is getting to me."

Gwen swallowed her mouthful of chicken and gave him a wide-eyed look. "What?"

"Our new neighbor, right? The poncy bloke upstairs? There's something off about him."

"You think he's an alien?"

Rhys rolled his eyes and shoved his takeaway box further from him on their small coffee table. "I didn't say that, did I? I just said something feels wrong about him."

"Like what?" At this point, Gwen had put down her fork too and was giving Rhys her full-on 'copper paying attention' face that she used when she was trying to absorb what someone was saying and make them feel comfortable saying it.

"There's something wrong with him, yeah? I never see him go to work. He's loud when he's home. He's got weird people over all the time."

"Uh huh."

"So, then I see him last night, when I was coming home. On his balcony. I swear he was covered in blood and he had this poor sickly looking girl with him. He dragged her inside like he was going to… eat her or something."

Gwen raised an eyebrow. "Look, I'm the last person to say that weird things don't happen in Cardiff. But you saw him on a balcony. At night. With a girl. How could you see what he was covered in?"

Rhys scowled. "I just could. There was something all over his shirt and hands. She didn't look like she was pleased to be there either. Besides, I saw him tonight too. He had this duffel with him and I swear, it was covered in blood."

"Really?"

"Well. It was brown splotches. And he said it was an art kit, so it could've been paint. But it looks like the stains you bring home." Rhys hit his palm against his forehead as if he'd just remembered to pick up the dry cleaning. "And! His tongue. It was pointed – like, like a lizard or something. Normal people do not have pointed tongues, right?"

"Unless he had a piercing, or had been in accident. Or maybe he just had eaten something and it had stained his tongue and made it hard to see. That happens. Remember that time you had the green candy floss and then went up to your boss?"

Rhys felt a surge of blood rush to his face. It had been at a company outing, before his last promotion. He'd gone up after a couple of beers to talk about how right he was for management with Harwood. At the time, his boss had been all smiles and friendly and it had flustered Rhys. Her low-cut sweater and curvy hips hadn't helped either though. Regardless, Rhys had forgotten all about the incident until pictures appeared of him – red face, flustered with his mouth open in the middle of a laugh. It had been green. Green candy floss dye smeared everywhere. Embarrassing.

Gwen was looking at him now, all patient doe eyes and half-amused smile. She carefully picked up her dinner again and took a smile bite. "I think it's sweet that you're on the lookout for us," she placated.

"There's something wrong with him, Gwenie. I can't… I don't know if it's Martians or not, but he's not normal."

Gwen reached over and grasped Rhys's hand. For something so small and delicate looking, Rhys was always amazed at the strength in it. "There aren't marts—"

At that moment a short, low sounding cry drifted through the ceiling, followed by a sharp distinct thud of something hitting the floor above them. Rhys and Gwen both jumped, though when Rhys half-jumped off the soda he knocked a container of food all over the table. Gwen realized she still held Rhys's hand and grinned weakly at him. "That's just unnecessary. We're just trying to enjoy our dinner."

"You believe me now? Eh? Sounds like he's offed someone up there."

Gwen blew her fringe out of her face and grimaced. "No, sweetheart, I think our neighbor is entertaining someone up there and is being really inconsiderate to his neighbors. I don't think he's an alien. Just rude." There was another thump above, this one not as loud, but still enough to make Rhys jump a little. "Very, very rude." Another series of thumps and bangs and Gwen was grabbing her coat.

"Where are you going?"

"To remind him, politely, that he has neighbors. Neighbors that want to enjoy their dinner, have some quiet time, and not be interrupted by his thunking around."

Rhys frowned. This is what he wanted, wasn't it? Gwen to take him serious and go up there, investigate that man, confirm he wasn't crazy and get rid of him. Except, Gwen didn't really think there was anything special going on. Gwen, he could tell by the way she was glancing at him, either thought he was spending too much time in front of the television or was a bit jealous of Jerry's glitzy lifestyle. Rhys grabbed a dishcloth from the kitchen and began mopping up the remains of dinner from the table. "Will you at least take your gun?"

"I don't think that's a good way to make friends."

"Please. For me, just so I don't worry."

Rhys suffered through Gwen's best analyzing look and, finally, she nodded. She went to her bedroom and came back out with the black standard Torchwood issued handgun that she kept hidden in there. Gwen lifted her shirt and tucked the weapon into the waistband of her jeans. That didn't seem particularly safe to Rhys, but he wasn't going to argue with her "special-ops" training when she was doing him a favor. "I'll be back in a bit," Gwen assured him. "Just going to have a chat. Maybe invite him for dinner next week."

"Even if he's not an alien, I think that's taking the good neighbor routine too far."

Gwen smiled. "You're awful. Keep dinner warm for me."

With that, she was gone, closing the front door quietly behind her. Rhys worried his bottom lip and looked around the wreck of the flat. Well. The least he could do was get things cleaned up. It'd be easier than worrying about Gwen anyway.

Gwen marched up the stairs to the neighbor's flat, grumbling slightly in her head at Rhys's paranoia. The new man seemed alright, if a bit shallow. Seemed like a young man that came into a little bit of money without the responsibility to know what to do with it, honestly. She'd seen the type plenty of times. Flash car, nice clothes and, sure enough she'll see it, lots of boy's toys littering the place. Gwen reached the top floor of their building and looked around. No noise coming from the flat. No one in the entryway. She frowned and knocked lightly on the door before calling out a greeting.

No answer. That was odd. Gwen knew he was there. So did Rhys. They'd heard him and they would have seen him on the stairs or the car leaving if he'd headed out before then. Gwen pressed on the door and it swung open – just an inch. Her intuition started itching. Jerry could be hurt. Someone could have broken in. That would have explained the noises, right?

Feeling justified in her curiosity, Gwen opened the door slightly and peered inside. The flat was spacious and beautiful, just like she remembered. Sure enough, it was decked out in gadgets and designer wall art as well. A grim smile passed over Gwen's face as she slid the door shut behind her. The flat reminded her a lot of Owen's. Big space, bigger toys and a bit impersonal. Actually, it reminded her of Ianto's in that regard as well, what with the lack of photos or anything particularly personal adorning the walls. Ianto kept all of his keepsakes and family photos tucked away in albums and relied on IKEA to keep his walls from being blank. The men, past and present, of Torchwood definitely confirmed Gwen's belief that men were very good at filling up a flat, but apparently not so good at making it feel like a home.

Neighbor Jerry's flat was posh though. And clean. Much cleaner than Gwen's and that made her frown. Rhys was definitely the cleaner of the pair of them, but even he didn't manage to keep this level of spotlessness in their home. All of the electronics were dust free, the appliances in their American style stainless steel were smudge free and spotless. The whole flat was done up in whites, reds and deep chocolates. The whites were shining, the reds of accents and pillow cushions were bright and clean and the brown leather of the sofa or dark wood of the room gleamed in a way that made all of it seem more like a showroom than a place where anyone actually lived.

Gwen heard a door creak and instantly stiffened. She had to stop herself from pulling the gun out from the back of her jeans and swore silently to herself. Definitely wouldn't make a good impression to pull a weapon on the neighbor.

"Hello," Gwen called out cautiously. "I knocked and no one answered. The door was cracked open and I'm just checking up on you."

"Yeah, really?" Oh, that time Gwen definitely jumped. She clenched her fists and spun around to face Neighbor Jerry. He was leaning against a shut door that Gwen assumed led to his bedroom. He was handsome, and Gwen considered herself a fairly astute judge of that and, more so, he wasn't entirely dressed. Heat rushed to Gwen's cheeks as she took in the half buttoned light gray shirt and denims that weren't fastened and, instead, hung loosely off the man's hipbones. Gwen hoped with all of her might that Jerry was alone. She was getting bad at walking in on people and this was almost as embarrassing as walking in on her half naked boss and his secretary.

Gwen winced at the awkward silence that was quickly filling the space. "Right. Didn't mean to disturb you. I'm Gwen. I live downstairs." Jerry didn't show any reaction other than to eye Gwen like some curiosity that had stumbled in – or a stray cat. She smiled in what she hoped was a friendly way. "I think you met my husband. Rhys?"

Jerry raised an eyebrow. "Hefty gentlemen? Likes to talk about trucks?" If Gwen hadn't already been prepared for it from Rhys, she would have been startled by Jerry's accent. Rhys said he was Canadian or American or something of the sort. His accent wasn't like Jack's, something was off about it, but then again, Jack's accent wasn't really American either.

"He's not hefty. He's solidly built," Gwen laughed. The environment in the room shifted immediately when Jerry smiled at her joke. He finished fastening his jeans and headed toward a breakfast bar that separated the kitchen from the living space. "Anyway, we heard noises. Through our ceiling. He was worried so I thought I'd pop in, say hello, see how you are settling in."

"Well, Gwen from Downstairs," Jerry drawled. "You can see I'm doing fine, but I am glad for the hello. Get you a drink?"

Gwen looked at Jerry's sparkling eyes, and that winsome grin, and she found herself smiling in return. "Yeah, just a quick one. Dinner's waiting."

By the time Rhys heard the door open, he'd done the sweeping up, tidied a bit and washed the dishes from the previous night. He was feeling pretty sorted as he pulled Gwen's leftovers out of the oven. "I kept this warm for you, sweetheart. Look at me, keeping the home fires going." He turned around grinning and felt his smile dim a little. Gwen was giving him a big gap tooth grin and had a slight flush to her cheeks.

"So, not an alien then?"

"Nope."

"Had a drink, did you?"

"Just the one."

Rhys sighed and placed the plate on their small dining room table. "Well, good thing he wasn't an alien then. I mean, it could have been part of his nefarious plan to get you off your guard."

"Rhys. He wasn't an alien." Gwen huffed and sat down to finish her food. "I appreciate you watching out for Cardiff – for me, but you don't need to worry about it so much. I know what I'm doing and so do Jack and Ianto."

Rhys felt reprimanded and what a ridiculous feeling that was. He knew something was off. Maybe Gwen was right, their neighbor was from this planet, but something was off. Maybe he was just a normal murderer, or just double parked, but Rhys wasn't about to give up on it yet. Gwen stood up, her fork clacking against the plate. Her expression was drawn, tired looking and she seemed like she was somewhere else already. "I'm going to bed," she said as she stood. "I'm exhausted and I've got to work in the morning."

"Right. I guess we could get to bed. Finish our evening together." Rhys placed a hand on Gwen's shoulder and kissed her temple.

"No. Rhys. I'm going to sleep so I can go and hunt actual aliens tomorrow and contain actual threats that are threatening actual people." Gwen brushed Rhys's hand away and, with a small smile, retreated to the bedroom. Then, with the quiet click of the bedroom door, Rhys realized his cozy night was over and there was no one to blame for it other than Jerry the bloody mysterious neighbor.


	2. Part Two

Ianto Jones was not in the best of moods. He was up to his eyeballs in work, mainly. On top of the general duties of protecting Cardiff from miscellaneous fuckery, his Hub was in disarray. There weren't enough people to justify him being mainly the administrator and there weren't enough hours in the day to even attempt at managing them both. Even on slow days, like today, he worked ten hours playing catch up for days he couldn't be there. Jack was gone, in London for the day meeting with UNIT officials about setting up an arrangement where they would provide backup for the Rift when Torchwood's slim staff needed it, so it had been just him and Gwen. That would've been fine, but it was obvious Gwen was just as exhausted as Ianto. He may have been trying to play field agent and office manager, but Gwen was trying to be multiple field agents at once on top of their only investigator.

She'd been irritable, taking a cup of coffee and mumbling about Rhys and delusions of grandeur before plugging in a pair of earphones and working on the stack of police reports and mission write-ups that had been threatening to swallow her desk. Ianto had shrugged and gone about his day. It wasn't like Gwen to keep her domestics to herself, but if that was what she wanted Ianto wasn't about to judge her for it. Mid-day hit and Ianto snuck out of the Hub to hit up the kebab stand near the Plass that Gwen particularly fancied. While waiting in line, his mobile rang. The display flashed Rhys Williams and Ianto's mouth twitched into a frown. Rhys and Ianto were good mates, and enjoyed a fair bit of a drinking and carousing together, but they didn't call each other.

"''ello?"

"Ianto, mate, doing well?" Rhy's voice sounded tight and uncomfortable over the airwaves. Ianto blinked.

"Fine. Yeah. Getting lunch."

"How's Gwennie? Any aliens today?"

"Er. No. She's… good." Ianto trailed off and let the silence fill the line. He didn't know the protocol for telling the husband that the wife was in a mood. Was that a betrayal of some sort of confidence? It couldn't be, considering Gwen hadn't actually confided anything in him.

"Right. Well. I heard you're on your own tonight, so I've got a stew in the slow cooker. Thought I'd remind you of your invitation before you and Gwen both forgot."

"Ah. Thanks."

"There will be wine."

"Oh, I,, hope so."

"Yeah. So. That was it really."

"Okay."

"Listen. Did Gwen… mention anything? About our neighbor?"

"No."

"Right. Right then. I'll see you two around seven?"

"Sounds good."

As the two men bid farewell and disconnected the call, Ianto couldn't help but shake the confused feeling. It'd become a bit of tradition, starting before Tosh and Owen passed, that Ianto would go to theirs for dinner when Jack was gone, so he hadn't really needed a reminder. That was their time to be Welsh and drink a bit without Jack's shadow hanging over everything. And Rhys was checking up on Gwen, understandably, but what was that bit about the neighbor? Did he think Gwen was having an affair? That couldn't be it. The person in front of him in line stepped away with their piping hot food and Ianto pushed the thoughts of domestics and awkward stew dinners out of his head.

Ianto stayed busy for the rest of the day, excruciatingly so, but it was an improvement over the morning. Gwen was still in a mood and Ianto's head pounded silently at dealing with her. Best mate or not, she could put anyone on edge. By the end of the day, Ianto was positive that while Torchwood would guarantee he'd never actually live to see an old age, it did make sure he felt too old some of the time.

Ianto came out of the archives, dusty, irritable and ready for food and drink, to see the Hub was already in standby. He huffed. Gwen could've at least waited on him. Ianto decided then and there to just leave everything. If the bloody dinosaur wanted out, she could go out when Jack got back in a few hours. He stormed over to his workstation to grab his belongings and yanked a post-it note off his monitor.

_Ianto – Got a headache. Went to get some rest before you come over. Sorry about being a moody git. Drinking Scrabble later to make up for it. – Gwen. _

Well, that made things a bit better. Ianto finished collecting his things, including the bottle of wine he intended to share with his hosts, and, giving the gloomy half-illuminated Hub one final look, headed out to pretend to be normal for a while.

Gwen had lived in the same flat for about five or six years. It was a good neighborhood, filled with little shops and a deli that made fabulous sandwiches. Ianto didn't expect them to live there much longer though, too much talk of setting down roots and building families, and half of him considered buying their flat when they did move. As he parked the car, h, h,e looked at their building and contemplated the idea again. It was an older home, refashioned into a series of flats on each floor, and still close enough to the Hub to get there quick enough if needed. The only downside he could see in buying the place would be Gwen's look of outrage when he painted over the horrible pale pink in the bath. She picked that color personally, she'd told him, and being a good friend Ianto didn't tell her it reminded him of watered down stomach medicine.

Ianto parked his car, grabbed his wine, and with the assuring _beep beep _of the door locking, started up toward to Gwen's. Movement above him caught Ianto's eye and he looked up to see a youngish man, maybe a few years younger than Jack's physical appearance, glancing down at him from a balcony. His gaze raked over Ianto and he smiled wolfishly. "Evening," an accented voice yelled down.

Ianto nodded. The accent – similar to Jack's but not quite – almost threw him. He raised a hand for a quick wave and smile and then… was jerked into the foyer of the building by a flushed Rhys Williams. Ianto raised an eyebrow as Rhys shut the door firmly behind him.

"Try not to encourage the animals, mate." Rhys's explanation was less than adequate until it dawned on Ianto.

"So that's the evil neighbor then?"

"Yeah. Right now my theories range from alien to puppy smuggler."

Puppy smuggler? Ianto knew better than to respond as he followed Rhys up the stairs and into their flat. It was clean, there was already a bottle of opened wine on the table and the smell of spices and herbs from the kitchen make Ianto's stomach remind him that he had only had half a kebab earlier in the day. Ianto glanced about. "Where's Gwen?"

"Showering. She came home and slept for a few hours. Rough day?"

A frown flickered across Ianto's face. "Not really."

Ianto helped Rhys set the table and finish the last touches on dinner. By the time they had finished the table was laden with homemade lamb stew with root vegetables and warm bread. Ianto was pouring three glasses of wine when Gwen emerged, fresh faced and smiling, from the bedroom.

Ianto had shed his tie and suit jacket once he began cooking, and his dress shirt had become un-tucked somewhere along the way. Between him and Gwen's simple denims and tunic shirt, i,,t was easy for all of them to pretend, at least for a few hours, that no one in this flat knew anything about aliens. That was the best part of their refueling nights together. These nights of drinking and eating and acting _normal _had become so necessary and so precious in the wake of Tosh and Owen's deaths. Now Gwen and Ianto only had the other that could truly, honestly, relate to what their work day was like. Now they weren't a pack of professionals protecting Cardiff. Instead, it was two Welsh kids and their mad time-traveling boss. For that reason, Gwen and Ianto needed time to remind themselves, and each other, that the other was human and still there – that the job hadn't completely stripped away their ability to relate to one another without aliens involved.

Gwen smiled, kissed the top of Rhys's head and gave Ianto's shoulder an affectionate squeeze as she sat down. "This looks gorgeous," she raved. "Rhys always outdoes himself for our dinners."

Ianto nodded as he helped himself to filling his plate. "You feeling alright?"

"Yeah. Sorry about earlier. I think I was just too tired. Too many late nights catching up all at once."

Ianto smirked as he sopped up some stew onto a piece of bread. "Age." He dodged Gwen's punch to the arm and laughed.

"You date someone older than our current calendar system and you're giving _me _hell? You're an awful boy."

"Fair enough."

It continued to be a good evening. Dinner was eaten and Rhys shooed Ianto and Gwen to the sofa while he cleaned up. They finished off the first of the wine, put in a movie and played board games while the television noises filled the space around them. Only twice did Rhys swear and look irritated as a few random thumps drifted from upstairs. After a while, the annoyed looks only make Gwen and Ianto laugh and Rhys had to attempt to hide them to avoid feeling like the night's entertainment. Halfway through the second bottle, Ianto's mobile rang. He glanced down at the number and held up a hand to excuse himself. Gwen chuckled. She had her knees tucked up under her and she stretched one graceful leg out to nudge her husband, who was sitting next to her. They both knew who it was. Ianto wasn't fooling anyone, but Gwen knew he needed to have the illusion that he was keeping things low-key.

Ianto returned a few minutes later from Gwen's bathroom, the remains of a blush staining his neck, and smiled weakly. "Hub's doing alright." That was as close to an admission as Gwen was going to get to who had been the caller. Ianto knew Gwen was doing her best to hold in one of her indulgent, sweet looks that, just occasionally, made his shoulders bunch up in a mess of too tense muscles. She'd actively been working on it, after a long night and the final confession that Gwen made him feel like a teenager going on dates for the first time. Since then, she'd been much more aware of treating Ianto like a child, or more aptly, like someone who didn't know what he was getting into and needed an older sister to guide him. Ianto had one of those, and she'd been poor at giving guidance too. Now he just wanted someone to make jokes about the horrible life decisions he seemed to enjoy making.

"You leaving soon then?"

"Uh. No."

"You can. We won't mind."

"I'm having fun. I want to stay. He— the Hub will be fine."

Gwen seemed to be prepping herself for their normal argument and Ianto wondered which point she'd start with – whether it would be about what Ianto was doing; if he realized he was half to blame for the hot and cold game that he and Jack played; or if they both really were as emotionally stunted as they acted. Just as she opened her mouth, a ,scream filled the air, muted only slightly from the ceiling and floorboards above.

Ianto's eyebrows raised up nearly to his hairline and Gwen stared above them. "That was… loud."

"Yeah. It was."

Rhys stood up to throw away the empty wine bottle and grumbled. "This is what I was saying. It's not respectful and it's a bit creepy. Isn't it? That was suspicious, wasn't it? People don't scream like that unless it's for a reason."

Gwen and Ianto looked at each other. He made a favorite face of hers, eyebrows slightly lifted, shoulders hunched and an exaggerated frown on his face. She chewed her lip and nodded. "I'm going to go talk to him."

"Uh, no," Rhys interrupted. "We just heard loud screaming."

"And I catch aliens for a living. I've talked to him. It could have been a movie or something more… naked."

For some reason, Ianto's face flushed. He stood, swaying slightly from the wine. "I'll go with you."

Gwen shook her head. "No, I don't want to make it look like I've called someone on him or… want to join in by showing up with some young well-dressed bloke."

"But Rhys is right, we heard –"

"Ask Rhys how often we've heard 'screaming' like that. Then ask what we usually see in the morning."

Ianto flopped back down on the couch. "It's like living below Owen."

Gwen wanted to laugh at his joke, at the fact that they were finally able to joke about Owen again, but she was too busy giving her serious face to Rhys. "I'll be right back."

She kissed Rhys's cheek before she left, waving and giving one of her best reassuring smiles. Once Gwen had left, the flat was silent. Rhys wasn't pleased and he shot an annoyed look at Ianto. Ianto, for his part, wasn't paying attention. He was watching the news as it played silently on the television. Though Ianto had the grace not to say it, Rhys knew what the other man was thinking. Gwen could handle anything that was upstairs – far better than Rhys, or really even Ianto, could have managed. Acting like put-out alpha male wasn't going to win points with her.

"Right. That's me told," Rhys finally admitted. He was rewarded with a small smile from Ianto. Bastard had just been sitting there, silently, waiting for Rhys to figure things out on his own. "Let's have another drink."

Gwen didn't come back for almost a half hour. At that point, even Ianto was concerned and seemed ready to go upstairs himself and check on things. When she did appear, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were wider than normal. It was a party, she confirmed for them. She stayed and had a drink, chatted a bit, then realized she should be heading home. Jerry wanted to have dinner next week and Rhys scoffed at that.

They stayed up for a few more hours, polishing off another bottle of wine, until Gwen decided she was ready to retire and Ianto looked half-asleep on the sofa. As Rhys threw a pillow and blanket to Ianto, he realized for the first time that evening how silent the flat above him now was.

* * *

><p>Ianto awoke, in the dark and slightly confused about his location. He was sleeping on Gwen's couch. This was not a rare occurrence since the night of Grey's attack. He groped blindly for his phone to check the time and his messages. Around three in the morning and two messages from Jack. One message asked what Ianto was wearing. When sleeping Ianto hadn't replied Jack had sent another asking for him to come in early. Ianto smirked and sat up slowly. He may as well go now. It wasn't as if Jack would be sleeping. Ianto bit back a laugh and slid his phone into his pocket.<p>

As Ianto stretched, a noise near the entryway caught his attention. He glanced toward the partially open bedroom door. There was a large mass sleeping in the bed, but that was all he could see. Quietly, carefully, Ianto stood and crept toward the front of the flat. He snuck around the corner just in time to see the back of Gwen's head as the door shut behind it. Huh. That was strange. No Torchwood alerts, Gwen would have woke him for that, and she was fully dressed. Ianto leaned against the wall as he debated whether or not to follow. She was a grown woman and perfectly capable of making her own decisions. However, sneaking off in the middle of the night didn't really mesh with her normal comings and goings. At least not anymore.

With a grumble, Ianto toed on his shoes and slipped quietly into the hall. He heard the click of the hallway door and followed the noise. It was the door leading to the upstairs flat. Ianto's stomach dropped. Grown woman or not, this didn't look good. Ianto hesitated again. This wasn't his business, was it? Except it was. They were all family now. Him, Gwen, Jack and Rhys. They were, at least in Ianto's eyes, the closest family he'd ever had. He had a sister he barely spoke to and dead parents. The idea that he could have a family now made him fiercely protective of it and, honestly, he thought Gwen felt the same way. She'd made mistakes in the past, but that was before, and Ianto was not in any position to judge someone's old affairs. Ianto stiffened his shoulders. No need to assume the worst. The neighbor could've just been making noise again and Gwen wanted to calm it down before Rhys exploded.

He slunk up the stairs, not seeing Gwen, but spotting the door to Jerry's flat cracked open slightly. "Gwen?" Ianto whispered as his hand touched the doorknob. "You up here?" If anything illicit was going on, hopefully he could give them some warning before bursting in and creating an absolutely mortifying situation. Ianto pushed the door open – not being overtly loud about it, but not trying to hide his entrance either. The flat was mostly dark, though he did really appreciate the snazzy décor. It was clean, modern and masculine. There was a door, he could see it, that lead to what was probably a bedroom. Ianto started to creep his way toward it when something caught his eye and he frowned.

Across the small hall from the supposed bedroom was a bookshelf. It looked wrong. Ianto approached it and ran his hand down the wood. It looked like one of those shitty "fake" bookshelves that he'd seen in Sky Mall magazines and catalogs that arrived at the tourist office. Sure enough, once Ianto pressed on the edge of the frame, it sprung open to reveal another door. Another locked door.

Ianto looked around the flat, seeing no one, and pulled out the small lock pick from his wallet. With a few flicks of the wrist, he lock clicked and he grinned. Torchwood allowed him to use so many normally shady skills. It was great. Probably the best part of the job and much better than the early death thing that hung over all of them. He gently pushed the door, slowly at first, in case it creaked, and slipped inside once the gap was wide enough to accommodate him.

The sight that greeted Ianto in the tiny once-upon-a-time second bedroom made him flatten his back against the wall and gasp aloud. The room was covered in thick plastic sheeting. Sheeting Ianto was fairly familiar with from his times of disposing bodies. It was waterproof, easy to dispose and transport and, in the case of this room, great for keeping random blood splatters from cleanly painted walls or hardwood floors. The only window in the room was covered with a black-out curtain and then more plastic sheeting. The only lighting Ianto had was from a sickly yellowish ceiling light. It provided just enough glow for him to make out a figure, slumped in the corner and facing the wall.

Ianto darted over, his feet rustling through the sheeting, until he could crouch next to what he could see now was a dark haired girl. His stomach feeling like lead, Ianto rolled her over and gave out a sigh of relief. It wasn't Gwen. It wasn't anyone he recognized. It – _she _was a young girl, around Ianto's age, and after checking her pulse, _she _was clearly dead. Ianto bit his lip as he stood. Jerry might not be an alien, but he was a murderer, and Gwen was missing now. He pulled out his mobile. The signal was faint, but it was perhaps better for Ianto to get out first and contact Jack and the locals.

Just as Ianto turned to begin his creep out of the flat, a force slammed him against the wall. The impact caused the breath to whoosh from his lungs and spots to dance briefly in front of his vision. Ianto shook his head as he struggled to break free of the grip holding him. Once his vision cleared enough, he could make out that his attacker was clearly Jerry, the murdering neighbor from the balcony. Jerry had a hand wrapped tightly around each of Ianto's upper arms, and when Ianto moved to break the hold, he was slammed forcibly back into the wall. Jerry pushed himself close to Ianto, shoving his knee between the younger man's legs while he was momentarily dazed. Everything about the situation was confusing Ianto – how did he not hear the other man enter? Why couldn't he push him off? Jerry was about Ianto's build, if a little older. Ianto had taken down Weevils and worse of late and now found he was unable to break the hold of one man. His mouth dry, Ianto squirmed again and the grip on his arms tightened painfully.

Jerry grinned. Even in the dim lighting his teeth seemed unnaturally white. "I really didn't realize Wales had a delivery service for pretties. I thought I'd broke the bank when that raven haired beauty wandered up to see me, and now I get another one. I'm going to have to thank whoever keeps sending me gifts."

With a bit of effort, Ianto kept his face calm and looked his assailant dead in the eye. "Where's Gwen?"

"Oh, she's still around… still alive," Jerry added quickly when he saw Ianto's eyes go wide and dart toward the girl on the floor. "That one was an accident."

"An accident? You murdered her accidentally in your murder room? Really?"

"Yeah, she made too many sarcastic quips and just fell down dead." Ianto rolled his eyes and muffled a gasp when Jerry's fingers dug into his arm. "You know, I saw you," Jerry continued. "From the balcony. I thought to myself, there's a young man that's wound a little too tight. Am I right?"

Silence filled the room. "I think I am right," Jerry grinned again. "I thought to myself, 'Jerry, I bet underneath all those layers is someone who could use a little attention. Someone who'd be fun if he learned to let go of everything.' Meeting you, I think I'm right."

When Ianto still didn't respond, the dark haired man leaned forward, pressing his weight into Ianto, and ran his lips over Ianto's jawline. He stopped when his lips were near Ianto's ear so he could whisper. "You want to see Gwen? Make sure she's okay?"

Ianto nodded. The breath on his ear was cold and he involuntarily shivered as he nodded again.

"Good. I wanted you to stay and play with us anyway."

Ianto felt a stab of fear, then pain, and before he could register what was going on, gray swam his vision and he collapsed.

* * *

><p>As the young man slid gracelessly to the floor, Jerry Dandrige raised an eyebrow. He'd been serious in what he said – he'd love to know who kept sending him special deliveries. Not only was it off-putting to have someone, or a group of someones, seemingly already suspicious of him, whoever it was had great taste. The doe eyed woman and the well-dressed boy were like some sort of ridiculous bribe, and while Jerry was a huge fan of flattery and gifts, he didn't have a lot of room for house pets.<p>

Jerry knelt, and with a grunt of effort tossed the limp form on the floor into a fireman's carry. The body in the corner didn't even merit attention. It belonged to whiney slip of a thing who hadn't left in the morning like he'd asked. He kicked open the door to his bedroom and dumped his cargo onto the large bed next to the unconscious Gwen Cooper. Jerry took a moment to fish for a cigarette and light as he stared at his two acquisitions. He'd found the gun on Cooper, the neighbor, on her first visit, which sent up enough red flags to make him edgy about finishing her off. He'd lifted it though – just in case she felt the need to come back, and when she did come it made him congratulate himself on his own foresight.

Cigarette dangling from his mouth, Jerry fished around the young man's trouser pockets until he found a wallet. _Ianto Jones. _25. Library card. Dry Cleaner Reward Card – mostly filled. Credit Cards. A credit card in the name of one Jack Harkness. That was interesting. Business cards that just had Jones's name listed and a phone number. Business cards that had Captain Jack Harkness listed and a phone number. Pictures of an older woman and some kids. Picture of Jones and a very attractive black girl. Jones and Cooper. Jones and a lovely Japanese girl. Jerry was starting to think Ianto Jones got around a bit. Finally, buried behind all the photos, was a translucent ID badge with Jones's name, a number, a bar code and the word _Torchwood _emblazoned on the side. Jerry frowned and picked up the gun he'd collected from Cooper from off his dresser. Sure enough, in small letters down the side of the gun, _Torchwood. _Oh. _Oh. _These two were going to require some deeper investigation.

Jerry tossed the wallet and its contents on the dresser next to the gun. He then leapt, bouncing on his landing, on the bed between the two prone bodies. Cooper was gorgeous, and the subject of his attention first. She fit his type completely from her looks to her casual confidence and subtle strut. Gently, Jerry rolled her over onto her back. Her dark fringe fell away to reveal those large eyes, hidden now by unconsciousness, and her pixie shaped face and just fuckable mouth. He bent down, one hand stroking her hair, and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Gorgeous. Another deep kiss against pliant flesh and Jerry turned, one hand still resting on the flat plane of Gwen's stomach, to examine his other new companion.

Jones had dark, nearly feminine, eyelashes that were a splash of black across his pale face and his lips were a ludicrous shade of soft pink. Jerry ran the fingertips of his free hand over the sleeping man's mouth just to make sure the color was natural. Bit younger than he liked in males. Pretty though.

Jerry stretched and stared at his ceiling. It'd been a while since he'd had long-term company. Maybe, just maybe, two candidates had stumbled upon him. If they were useful. Jerry sat up and tapped his finger against his mouth. He needed them awake, and compliant, while he investigated their potential. After a moment of thinking, he bit the finger near his mouth until dark purple-hued blood formed a dot at the tip. He held it upside down, pointing at Gwen's mouth, and then the drop wobbled and fell against her lips. Gwen's eyes flickered beneath the lids and her mouth opened slightly, allowing the droplet to slide inside. Perfect. Jerry propped himself up on an elbow and ran the same bloodied finger down Gwen's cheek, leaving a smeared trail as he went. Questions first, then hopefully a little play.

Two hours passed, and time found Jerry leaning against the doorframe to his bedroom wanting to thank whatever god was supposed to be looking out for his kind. Not that he always felt that way, but now, oh now he had reason to do it. A hundred years ago when an anomaly in space or time had dropped him on this backwater planet, Jerry, as he called himself now, had cursed the gods and fate. The place ended up being a treasure trove. The skills and talents of his people ended up being so far above the little peons here that it was like a never ending buffet of pleasure and feeding.

There had been adjustments both physically and mentally. His body naturally changed to blend him into his surroundings – giving him looks that only another true predator could appreciate. He was like a deadly flower to these insects: exotic, beautiful and irresistible. For whatever reason, the limited telepathy of his people didn't work well here. He could get flashes of things, impressions and general knowledge about a person. He could tell, with enough time and concentration, where a person worked or what they ate for breakfast, but not what dark thoughts they pondered when no one was around. It was frustrating, definitely, but still useful.

The best part of Jerry's new environment he discovered fairly quickly. Humans of this time hadn't developed any defenses against him. Back from his own time and place, his kind were hunted by humans and other life forms for being too good at surviving. They were feared, but not invincible. Here, it was as close as Jerry could manage to feeling godlike. The natural chemicals and toxins his people produced to capture prey turned these people into thralls unable to break away from Jerry's demands and willing victims to whatever he wanted – money, shelter, nourishment or sex.

Oh, the sex. The drugs. The hedonism of these people. It made the chemicals in Jerry churn at just the thought and bless his current body. The pheromones and endorphins humans produced were almost as addictive as the life force they provided for nourishment.

The first couple years were rough. Jerry almost died a few times as he learned the ins and outs of this planet and the best way to stay off the radar but still get his. He'd learned to move around, take a local or two as a guide, enjoy himself and head toward the next destination before any were the wiser. If he left a few corpses in his wake, w, ho was harmed by it? Humans bred quickly enough at any rate. It was worth it though, and, if he was honest, Jerry had no qualms about spending the rest of his very long lifespan in his new personal playground.

Jerry took a drink from of vodka and glanced at the bed while stifling a laugh.

Now things had gotten better. Completely by accident. So he'd been a little careless in his new place. The flat he'd found was lavish enough for his needs and wants and modest enough to not make him interesting. And he'd intrigued Torchwood, who sent a woman and a boy to deal with him. Obviously underestimating him. However, the woman who'd shown up at his door with suspicious eyes and a hidden weapon was gorgeous. Sexy and completely oblivious to how her confidence and carriage made her irresistible. It'd been little effort to manipulate and worm his way into her mind – convince her to come back later to he could see what was under her t-shirts. Keep her docile while he took the time to really discover what a treasure he'd found. A super spy or alien hunter had just wandered into the monster's nest. No, even better, she was a sexy super spy or alien hunter with giant round eyes and firm breasts and lean legs at that.

Hours later, when her partner had stumbled in and been subdued, Jerry had to take ten minutes to have a smoke, stare at his finds, and laugh at his luck. The male, with his pink lips and boyish features, completed his set. Attractive, well-trained, and so much useful knowledge. He had one with enough know-how of the authorities and locals to keep Jerry's cover in place while he indulged, and the other with the ability to make even the messiest leftovers disappear without a trace. He hadn't even thought of all the uses for the toys they could get him. Sure, the woman looked like she could be trouble if he didn't keep a close eye on her; and the boy was so tightly pressed that it took quite a bit for Jerry to get through his defenses – but this looked like it was worth the effort.

Jerry glanced at his dresser where the woman's firearm rested, gleaming dark metal in the dim light of his bedroom. Well-trained may be a bit of an understatement. Deadly would be closer. His eyes went back to the planes of pale flesh stretched in his bed and he ran a hand through a curtain of silky black hair. A soft gasp filled the air and Jerry chuckled. They'd watch his back, fill his bed and lure in his food like good little minions. Minions! He had minions, for the first time in years. In return for their hard work, he'd give them enough pleasure to keep their bodies sated and minds numb and enough of his body's own chemical cocktail to keep them complacent.

"Move over for me," Jerry whispered while he watched the two figures on the bed paw and explore each other's bodies at his request. They immediately stilled and he was met with matching expressions – pupils blown, lips red and a flush creeping up pale cheeks. A slim hand turned to move up Jerry's thigh and he shifted toward the bed to settle between their warm frames.

Bodyguards, housekeepers and playthings. Jerry really must have done something good in a past life.


	3. Part Three

In the morning, Rhys Williams woke up without a hangover. He felt pretty good actually – though some eggy toast and a cup of hot coffee did sound brilliant. Rubbing the sleep and gunk off his face, he stretched one arm lazily out to grope the space next to him. Empty. Well. That was becoming an oddly reoccurring situation. Rhys rolled out of bed, whistling, and grabbed his robe from the bathroom door. He stepped out into the living space, expecting the sight of Gwen and Ianto and breakfast to greet him. Instead, there was nothing. Ianto's blankets and pillow were scattered about and that, too, wasn't quite right. Normally, Ianto left everything tidied and folded up nicer than when he got there.

"Hello?"

Alright, Rhys wasn't entirely sure who he expected to answer then. It wasn't as if the two of them were hiding behind the sofa. He could see behind the sofa – that definitely wasn't the case. So they'd probably been called out for some sort of emergency. It was good of Gwen to let him sleep, really. Rhys checked his mobile that he'd left on the kitchen table. No messages. Must have been quite an adventure. He hit Gwen's number on the speed dial and instantly heard the dancing tones of some Scissors Sisters song fill the flat. That explained no messages. Fairly typical and better than her losing the new phone to some sort of slime again.

Another quick investigation revealed Ianto had forgotten his tie, but everything else had been collected and accounted for. Rhys shot off a quick text to Ianto, telling him to let Gwen know he'd found her mobile, and started to get ready for work.

Rhys didn't think anything else of it until around lunchtime when a flashing series of asterisks appeared on his mobile's caller ID. There was only one number that ever popped up like that.

"Hello, sweetheart. I was about to wonder if you'd forgotten about me."

"Oh, Rhys Williams, with those big strong hands of yours, how could anyone forget you?

Rhys's face instantly flushed and he ducked into his office, shutting the door quickly before his staff could question his agitated state. "Jack Harkness, you can fuck off with that right now. You don't pretend to be a man's wife on the phone just to embarrass him. "

Jack chuckled and Rhys had to suppress his irritation at the smooth American voice over the phone. He was really starting to think he had a bias against that continent's accents. "I didn't pretend. You assumed."

"Right. Well. Close enough." Rhys flopped down in his office chair and ran a hand through his hair. "Gwen s'okay, isn't she?" He figured, honestly, that she was. Harkness was a bit of a prat, but even he wouldn't put on airs if Gwen was hurt or in trouble.

"Dunno. Was hoping you could answer that. I seem to be missing my entire staff."

"Gwen and Ianto, eh? Probably needed a break from you." Jack huffed over the line but before he could respond, Rhys frowned. "They were gone before I was awake. I assumed they were off with you."

"No. I called them both –"

"Gwen left her mobile at home."

"Of course she did. No answer from Ianto though."

"Aye, yeah. I sent him a message earlier. No response. Thought they were busy. He doesn't like texting much."

"Depends on what you're sending him."

Rhys squeezed his eyes shut. He liked Ianto, he did. After the explosions in Cardiff, and Gwen's unofficial adoption of him into their family, Rhys had grown attached to him. He'd still never understand what the hell a boy from Newport was doing with Jack Harkness, but, you know, can't get into the head of others. "So they're not here, and they're not with you…"

"I'm turning on the tracking unit in Ianto's mobile."

"Tracking unit—Christ. Do you have one in Gwen's as well?"

"And yours."

Rhys pulled away from the mobile and looked at the phone suspiciously, as if he could force the phone into giving up whether or not Jack was lying. "You're joking."

"No, hold on." There was the clacking of computer keys on the other end of the line and then a victorious little a-ha. "He's at your place."

"I was there. They aren't."

"Must have been out when you left and came back. Maybe," Jack's voice dropped in pitch and took a flirty tone that immediately put Rhys's teeth on edge. "Maybe they're having an illicit affair and want to keep it from us." Rhys choked out a laugh and shook his head. "Come on, Rhys. Even you have to admit that'd be a pretty sight to walk in on."

Oh, how he sometimes wanted to hit this man. "Right. Well, I know Gwen's pretty happy. Maybe you're a bit worried about where Ianto goes at night, but I'm not."

An awkward silence answered him.

"Want me to go check on them? Rhys asked lamely, trying to fix the apparent faux paus he'd just committed.

"Er. Yeah. If you could. I'm a little busy here and I've got some meetings in an hour."

"No problem. I'll yell at them for you."

"Thanks. Also, if they're naked, take pictures."

Rhys, instead of responding, jabbed the disconnect button on his mobile as forcibly as he could.

Rhys told his staff he was popping out because Gwen had gone home sick. He left Bev in charge and kept his mobile in his pocket in case anyone needed him. The drive back was short and Rhys jogged up the stairs without a thought of odd neighbors.

"Gwen?" He yelled as he stepped into the flat. "Ianto? You two alright?" Silence answered him. He frowned. Everything looked the same as when he left. No new dirty dishes, television off and Ianto's blanket folded at the end of the couch where he'd left it that morning. Rhys crept to the bedroom, but he could hear no sounds from there either.

It was ridiculous. Jack had been teasing him. Jack always joked about naked teambuilding and often invited Rhys to join in as well. However, it didn't help the tense feeling in Rhys's muscles. He was only human. Gwen was too, but she had that sexy super spy thing going on. Rhys pushed the door open gently. "Gwen?" he called out softly. The room was empty and Rhys felt all the muscles in his back and neck unwind as he exhaled.

Rhys sat heavily on the bed and looked around, perturbed at the normalcy of it all. Jack didn't know where Gwen and Ianto were. Rhys didn't. Neither of them were responding to calls. It... didn't look good. Rhys pulled out his phone and called the number Gwen gave him to get a hold of her work. Jack answered on the second ring.

"You know, I may need to explain to your gorgeous wife what a private number is."

"They're not here."

There was a pause. "Really? Ianto's GPS signal is still there."

"Yeah, well he's not."

Jack hmm'd over the phone and Rhys heard the sound of a chair scooting across hard floor. "Were there any signs of forced entry or struggle when you got up this morning?"

"What? You think they were kidnapped?"

"Rhys."

"Really though, how would someone manage to kidnap two alien hunters from my flat, successfully, without waking me up? I don't snore tha—"

"Rhys."

Rhys rubbed his forehead. "No, nothing. Looked like they got up and left for work. All I found was Gwen's phone and Ianto's tie."

"That doesn't sound like Ianto to leave for work not dressed."

"He did the last time he was here. Said he had clothes there."

There was an embarrassed cough from over the line and a weak smile traced Rhys's face. He'd normally be enjoying Jack's discomfort, but Jack sounded worried. If Jack was worried, well…

"You sure they aren't out on the job?"

"I think I'd know if they were. I was here all night. Ianto didn't even message me this morning."

Rhys fell backwards on the bed and stared at the ceiling. "What do we do then?"

"You? Nothing. I'm coming over to look for clues."

"Right. Well. I'll put the kettle on."

Jack was there in ten minutes, which could only mean he violated every speeding and traffic law in Cardiff to get there. They'd searched the place, questioned some people in the neighborhood and came up with nothing. Rhys had even broken down and called Andy Davidson, the smug bastard. When Andy made a comment about Rhys and Captain Flappity Coat not keeping up with their people, both men rolled their eyes. Then shuddered. Even if it was just mutual annoyance with Andy, neither was quite ready for a manly bonding session Hours later, well past dusk, Rhys had given up on going back to work and was genuinely, sincerely worried. The drawn look on Jack's face suggested the same. Now Jack was standing in Rhys's living room, picking up blankets and couch cushions and glaring at Ianto's tie like it was a hostile witness.

Finally, Jack sat down on the couch in defeat. He ran a hand through his hair. "Are you sure nothing strange happened?"

"No. I told you. We ate. Gwen scolded our neighbor for being loud. She came back. We drank some more."

"Which neighbor?"

"I've told you. The one upstairs. Look, there's something off about him, I'll give you that. But she came back and she was fine, and I doubt he managed to sneak in here and whisk them away when I wasn't looking."

"No, you were asleep."

Rhys glared and took a seat at the kitchen table. "So, what do we do now?"

"I guess we'll start asking around again. See if anything's been reported to the police -"

A beeping filled the flat and Jack pulled his mobile out of his great coat. His brow furrowed in confusion.

"What's that then?"

Jack clicked a few buttons before looking up at Rhys. "Ianto's turned his phone on. He's at – some club. Seriously?" Jack narrowed his eyes and jabbed a button, presumably a speed dial, to connect to Ianto's. He held the phone to his ear for a moment before growling and shoving into his pocket again. "Okay. Now I'm just getting pissed off."

"What is it?"

"I think he's rejecting my calls!"

Rhys let his head fall back onto his shoulders and groaned. "Is that was this is then? Did you two have a domestic and they've fucked off for a day to teach you a lesson? Bloody Harkness, it's one thing to put Gwen in danger and ano—"

Jack snapped his fingers loudly. "Hey. Hey! First, we don't do domestics. That's for resigned married slobs with morbid fascinations with cooking shows and spaghetti. Second, he doesn't ignore my calls, even if he's being pissy. Not in our line of work. You sure you didn't do anything wrong?"

"Me? Me! Oh, not bloody likely." Rhys stood up and grabbed his coat from a nearby table. "Enough of this. Let's go see where he is and if he knows what the fuck is going on."

Jack looked like he wanted to continue fighting but paused, as if he was trying to come up with a better plan than the one Rhys suggested. Finally, he nodded. "Fine. Stay behind me and make sure you do what I say. We don't know what we're walking into."

"Yeah, would hate for someone to buy me a drink or something."

* * *

><p>The club that Jack parked across the street from – illegally – was not the sort of place Rhys imagined finding Gwen or Ianto. It was a bit posh, mostly. Not that Rhys couldn't imagine Ianto somewhere posh; he just imagined Ianto somewhere classy with nice scotch. This was more for young people who wanted to shag and be seen than the sort of establishment he'd imagine Ianto frequenting. Rhys looked down at his jeans and long sleeved shirt and then over at the slim young things in line in trendy clothes. "We're not getting in there."<p>

Jack rolled his eyes. "Welsh. Act confident and you can get in anywhere."

"Suppose that's how you manage looking like something from a period film all the time."

Jack pouted, actually pouted with his lip out, and Rhys stared back at him. Jack met his gaze and their silent battle of wills engaged. Finally, Rhys broke away and shook his head. "I can't believe neither of them have bothered telling you how ridiculous you look."

"It looks good on me. You love it. Everyone loves it."

"Whatever. What's the plan?"

"The plan is for me to go in and find Ianto. Yell at him probably. Maybe sneak in some quality time in a stall and for you to wait out here and keep the car going. It's cold out."

"Er, no. I'm going with you. What if Gwen's in there?"

"Then she can jo—"

"Don't fucking finish that, Harkness. Not in the mood." Rhys unfastened his seat belt and hopped out of the SUV. "Really though, you're sure Ianto's in there?"

"No, but his phone is at least. That's something to go on." Jack cut off the engine and hopped out of the SUV with Rhys following. Jack skipped to the front of the queue to get inside, stopping at the large burly bouncer and motioning for Rhys to stay close. He pulled an ID out of his coat pocket, which made Rhys wonder exactly how many things he carried in there, and put on one of those matinee idol smiles. "Torchwood. Special Ops. We believe a person of interest is located inside."

The bouncer gave Jack a long look over, then glanced briefly at Rhys. "You can go in. He can wait out here."

Rhys felt his face flush with embarrassment. Really? They'd let in the odd man with a flappy coat and not him? The world was mad. Jack's smile brightened, showing a little more teeth than necessary. "No can do, he's on my team. Interrogations," he whispered the last part theatrically loud while giving Rhys an exaggerated look. "Wouldn't want him to get antsy waiting out here."

"Er, right." The bouncer stepped to the side and motioned for them to enter. "The manager is in an office behind the bar. Be careful, we have a VIP up on the second level with some guests. You'll need either his or the manager's permission to get up there." Jack nodded and gave a flirty wave before taking Rhys by the arm and escorting him into the club.

Rhys flinched at the change of lighting. It was dim, lit only by amber lamps scattered throughout the place. Everything in the main room was dark bronze-colored metal – even the bar and that, with the lamps, gave everything a warm, slightly surreal glow. Rhys saw a door, thick, same bronzed metal material but with a window in it. Through the window there were flashing bright lights and, though he couldn't hear it completely, the vibrations of dance music seemed to throb its way through into the main area. To the left of the door was a set of stairs, leading up to a loft sort of area and blocked off by a thick rope and another surly looking bouncer standing at the bottom.

Jack tugged Rhys's sleeve. The music in here wasn't so loud, mostly indie music made for slight dancing and conversation. However, Rhys still found he needed to lean closer to hear Jack's words. He smelled spicy and exotic even in the crowded quarters. Jack smiled, that infuriating smile that made Rhys feel like Jack could read what he was thinking. "I'm going to go check in there," Jack jerked his chin toward the club area. "You look around the bar."

"Really? You think he's in there?"

"Ianto likes to dance."

Rhys laughed and shook his head. Jack was, occasionally, good at taking the piss. He motioned for Jack to go off on his search and headed toward the bar. Rhys ordered a pint, and after paying a ridiculous amount for just Brains, scanned the downstairs area. No sign of Gwen, no sign of Ianto. This was a fucking waste. Rhys leaned against the bar and looked at all the young, professional people on the pull. Occasionally he would get a look. Not one of interest, more one of what the fuck is that man doing here.

The whole scene made Rhys grateful to have a wife and not have to bother with all of this.

A woman's laughter drew Rhys's eyes back toward the staircase, where a blonde woman and a young man were leaning against the banister next to the bouncer. The woman was wearing one of those retro 50's fit dresses that always pleased Gwen so much to see. Her hair was a pixie cut and she wore a bit too much mascara and eyeliner. She had a hand on the young man's chest and he had one of his hands on her hip, whispering in her ear.

When the man straightened up, Rhys nearly spit out his beer on the gentlemen standing next to him. Ianto? It looked like him though. He was wearing the same lightly pinstriped suit pants Rhys had seen him in last, but his dress shirt was different. Instead of the soft baby blue Rhys had seen him in yesterday, he was wearing a well-tailored plum number – untucked – and no tie or suit jacket. His hair was mussed and he was grinning. He looked, well, young. He looked like he should be out here on the pull more than he ever really managed that suited secret agent look.

"Ianto?" Rhys yelled out. The bartender gave him a dirty look, but Ianto didn't look his way. He didn't take his eyes off the girl with him, actually.

Rhys looked around. Jack was still back with the writhing bodies and too loud dance music. Rhys huffed, typical Torchwood. Not around when they're needed or they don't bother until something explodes out of control. Rhys started maneuvering his way through the crowds, keeping an eye on sort-of-Ianto as he leaned forward to talk to the manic pixie girl again. She laughed and nodded and right before Rhys could squeeze through the crowd to them, Ianto lifted the VIP rope behind him. He and the girl slipped under the barrier and, arm in arm, headed up the stairs.

With a swear, Rhys rubbed his face. Something easy and simple would be nice right now. Straightening his battered jacket, he decided to play it like Jack Harkness. He'd smooth his hair, give a big smile and walk right past that muscled moron standing there like a bloody sentry guarding some mafia boss. Rhys rolled his shoulders, popped his neck, and walked confidently over toward the stairs. He had his hand on the rope to duck under it when something fairly vice-like gripped his arm.

"Oi, you're not supposed to go up there. Private party."

Rhys tried his version of a Captain Jack Harkness smile. He had a feeling his had a little bit less charm and a little more nervousness than Jack's ever did. The man guarding the door looked at Rhys like he was an insect of some kind. He was a big bloke, wearing black pants and a black button down. He looked well, a bit thick, honestly. "Right. My mate's up there. Was wearing the purple shirt?" Rhys motioned with his chin where Ianto had headed.

The Burly Guard snorted. "Sure. Why don't we wait down here then until he comes back? I'm sure he'll notice you're gone."

A stabbing pain radiated from Rhys's mouth, and he realized that he had bitten his tongue. Probably better than the colorful swear he'd wanted to hurl at the man. He nodded, pulled his arm free, and went to lean against an open table that had a view of the staircase. Some patience would be required for this situation. Wait for Jack, go upstairs, see what the fuck was going on and get some answers for where those two had been all day. Then, Rhys swore he heard familiar feminine laughter drifting from directly above him. He craned his neck to try and peer above the railing that gave the denizens of the private loft a view of the main floor of the club. Nothing, at first, and then a flash of red sweater and dark hair of someone leaning against the railing made Rhys's entire chest clench. Gwen was here. She and Ianto had fucked off to have a good time and weren't even bothered about who they were worrying or forcing to drive about all of Cardiff looking for them.

Just before Jack appeared, the Gwen-like figured disappeared. Rhys waved awkwardly to get Jack's attention and Jack, with the smile that Rhys couldn't quite manage, maneuvered through the crowd until he reached Rhys's table.

"No sign of them dancing."

"Yeah, well they might be dancing, for all we know. But not in there."

Jack's brow furrowed as a questioning look passed across his face.

"I saw Ianto. He's up there. He was down here, getting close with a girl, and they went up there. The muscle by the stairs wouldn't let me follow."

As discreet as he could manage, Rhys studied Jack's face for a reaction. When he'd mentioned Ianto had been with a girl, all Rhys could detect was a slight lift of the eyebrow from Jack before he looked toward the blocked off loft. Those two would be horrible to play against in poker. "You sure it was him?"

"Yeah. Had a different shirt on. Must've gone home and changed at some point."

"I know that's not true." With that, Jack shoved away from the table and headed straight toward the bouncer. His grin this time wasn't charming or persuasive, but shark-like and that, for some reason, made the hairs on Rhys's arms stand up. "Special Ops," Jack said smoothly as he flashed his identification badge. "Doing an investigation and a person of interest is up those stairs."

"Boss said it's a private party."

"Yeah, well, your boss knows I'm here. Now, you can go ask your boss. But other people will slip up there and, frankly, I'll be kinda annoyed at waiting here. So go, and you'll have a boss angry at you for wasting his time and mine." Jack leaned forward enough to crowd the larger man's personal space and Rhys was baffled to see that the bouncer backed away slightly. "I really don't want to be annoyed tonight. "

"Right. Well. If the boss says you can go, go on."

Jack nodded and patted the other man's firm stomach. "Rhys, come on," he yelled over his shoulder as he bounded up the stairs. Rhys gave an awkward nod and shrugged his shoulders helplessly at the bouncer. As he was jogging to follow Jack, he swore he heard the man mumbling about not getting paid enough for this shit.

Upstairs, the loft area wasn't as impressive as muscly guards and roped off stairs implied. The lighting was still that same soft amber, but there were more couches and lounging areas than downstairs. Up here, there were people scattered about on the plush looking furniture surrounding small tables with ineffective lamps. There was a column blocking the view of the center of the room, but the laugh that Rhys heard made him rush forward, ahead of Jack. He reached the column and, on the other side, the sight made him freeze in his tracks.

Sitting around one of those awful crescent shaped sofas was, indeed, Ianto. And Gwen. And… for fuck's sake, Jerry the neighbor. Jerry was sitting in the middle. He had an arm around Gwen, telling her some apparently fucking hilarious story while his other hand waved a drink in emphasis. Rhys choked for a breath and grabbed Jack's coat, jerking him back behind the column. "Are you fucking serious," Rhys hissed. Jack made an expression that said about the same thing, however it was directed at Rhys. "They're with our fucking neighbor. He's… hold on."

Rhys stuck his head out from behind the column to get a better look at the group – all the while keeping a hold of Jack to avoid the Captain from breaking their cover. Yes. There was Jerry with Gwen. He looked like he was meant to be at some posh place in London, not in Cardiff. Rhys could see his tight black trousers and well cut light gray shirt showing off the toned arm that was insistently staying wrapped around Gwen. Ianto was on the other side, the pixie girl from downstairs half on his lap and grinning as his hand rested on her thigh. Rhys ducked back to his hiding spot with Jack. "I cannot fucking believe this. All of that fuss and they're out having a laugh with the psycho."

Jack pried off Rhys's hands and peered around the column. "He's pretty good looking. I'd take him home." Jack's blue eyes narrowed slightly. "Ianto could do better. I'm starting to think he has a thing for girls with short hair."

"Focus, Jack. How do we go about this?"

"Go about what?"

"You know, confronting them."

Jack shrugged. "About what exactly? I'm going to go over there and let them know that the next time they want to skip out on work, they need to let the boss know and that we'll talk about it tomorrow. Then I'm going to buy Ianto and that girl a drink and see if I get invited home with them."

"That's it," Rhys guffawed. "They disappear all day, we find them drinking and having fun, and you're going to join them?"

"I'm going to treat it like a work issue end deal with it at work." Jack shrugged. "If Ianto wants to talk about anything else, we'll talk. You and Gwen can take care of your own domestics. That's not my business. "

Jack brushed off his coat and left Rhys standing, open mouthed, behind the pillar. Rhys watched Jack approach, teeth flashing, and Ianto barely nod in acknowledgement to Jack's presence when Jack took a seat next to him.

The one person who did seem to be very interested in Jack, however, was Jerry. Jerry set down his drink, still keeping an arm around Gwen, and put a hand, almost possessively, on Ianto's knee. "I was wondering if you'd come over," Jerry grinned. "I mean, wearing that coat you can't be the shy type."

Jack returned Jerry's attention with a leer of his own and it was like watching a flirting competition on a masterful scale. Jerry slid money into the hands of the girl on Ianto's lap, telling her to go fetch drinks. The exaggerated pout on her face was almost comical; however, Ianto seemed oblivious to it as he watched the subtle flirtations and comments bantered between Jerry and Jack. Meanwhile, Rhys stumbled over, slowly, and stood in front of Gwen feeling all of the awkward school boy.

He puffed out his chest. "Right. You going to explain what this is all about then?"

Gwen seemed to be looking at the exchange between Jerry and Jack with the same rapt expression as Ianto.

"Hello? Gwen. Gwen."

Gwen's head snapped to look toward Rhys and her lips twitched into a distracted smile. "Yeah?" Rhys thought, even with his anger, she was looked gorgeous. The black leggings, boots and long red shirt that hung just enough off her shoulders to reveal her black bra straps made her look like a model. The way it clung to her curves could make someone's mouth water. Rhys definitely didn't remember Gwen ever owning anything like that.

Rhys cleared his thoughts and scolded himself for getting distracted. "Right. What're you going to say for yourself? The look of confusion on Gwen's face at least helped strengthen Rhys's resolve. "Come on then, you and Ianto, disappearing and going off for a day of drinking and doing fuck knows what else. And with… him. That self-entitled arse from upstairs."

"Hey, Jerry is fun." Rhys frowned. Gwen had a large dreamy smile plastered on her face, but her eyes looked tired and dazed. She had to have been drinking all day to get in that state.

"Uh huh. What sort of fun have you two been having then?"

Gwen's face distorted in disdain. "That's none of your business."

"None of my business? None of my business? I'm your husband. It is my business." Rhys could feel his own anger flushing his cheeks and he took a step backwards to get a breath to clear his head.

Gwen's face twisted in annoyance. "Oh come off it. I wanted to go out. You'd never be caught dead in a place like this. I just want to let my hair down and feel gorgeous for once."

"Gwen, you're always gorgeous." Rhys frowned, concern written all over his face, and he couldn't quite place why. It wasn't like Gwen to lash out like this, nor have confidence issues. She knew how fantastic she was.

"To you, Rhys. To you. I want everyone to see what I can be. Can't you understand? Can't you try to at least?"

He stepped back again, shaking his head, and stepped right into the firm chest of Jack Harkness. Rhys startled and whirled around. "You trying to scare me to death?" He hadn't even seen Jack stand up, seeing as he was too focused on trying to make Gwen stop looking at him like an inconvenience.

"We need to go."

"What? No, I'm not leaving. I need to talk to Gwen. We're trying to have a row."

There was a part of Rhys that was ready to take Jack straight on, feet apart and give him the best challenging look he could. However, Jack's serious expression and the way Jack slid around Rhys's and gripped it tight gave him enough of a hint to shut his mouth and follow along for now. Rhys managed to give Gwen one last fleeting glance over his shoulder – she'd already started ignoring him again, listening to whatever that prat was telling Ianto – and let himself be guided downstairs and out of the club.

Once out in the fresh air, Rhys jerked his arm free of Jack. "What was that about?"

Jack didn't even bother to look up from his wrist strap that was, apparently, very intriguing at the moment. "Jerry? Your neighbor? Not human."


	4. Part Four

Rhys Williams was torn at Jack's revelation. Part of him, a large part of him, the overwhelming reaction part of him, wanted to cheer and pump his fist in the air at the revelation that he was right. A few heartbeats later he realized that, while being right is fantastic, he'd left his wife and her best mate in the company of someone not human. Rhys turned to face the club, and then turned to face Jack again. "Then why, exactly, other than to let me relish in being right on about him, are we out here? Are Gwen and Ianto dealing with it?"

Jack mouth twisted into a grimace and he pulled the SUV keys out of his pocket. "Not exactly," he breathed out slowly. The distinctive sound of doors unlocking made Rhys's shoulders tense.

"What do you mean 'not exactly'? How do you not exactly deal with a… whatever he is."

There was a huff from Jack and the SUV driver door swung open. "In the sense that I'll… we'll… need to rescue them."

If it were possible, Rhys swore he felt his eyes widening as Jack spoke. "Are they – are they okay? Do we need to go back now?"

"Get in, Rhys."

"Well I'm not leaving her here if you think she's in danger! What about Ianto? You going to leave him too? Leave your entire team?"

"Rhys!" Jack's tone brooked no argument as he slid into the driver's seat. "Get in the car. If you want to help me. If you want to help them. Get in the car."

Rhys was torn, and he couldn't help but look back at the club and then at Jack, who was sitting with his hands clenched around the steering wheel, staring straight ahead. Gwen was in there. Jack seemed disturbed enough by whatever the fuck he learned inside- and fuck him very much for being mysterious and vague about it - that he wanted to retreat. A metallic taste hit Rhys's tongue and he realized he'd bitten his lip. The slight twinge of pain was enough to refocus his mind. If he wanted to help Gwen, he'd need to work with the only person in Cardiff that had answers to any question involving what to do with someone "not human." Hesitantly, Rhys rounded the front of the vehicle and then climbed into the passenger side.

Once Rhys was in, Jack clicked to engage the door locks and, in typical Torchwood fashion, sped off through the Cardiff streets. Rhys waited a moment, watching the lights of the various businesses and streetlights fly by. Everything looked smeared and surreal to him. At least as surreal as non-humans holding court in a night club. Finally, Rhys exhaled slowly and faced Jack. The American was unusually quiet, and his face was set in a serious expression. "So what is he?"

The curve of Jack's lips couldn't be called a smile. It was too grim and sallow for that. "He's an alien. What did you mean earlier, when you said you were right?"

"I'd told Gwen and Ianto I thought he was an alien." Rhys ducked his head and stared at his hands. "They thought I was seeing things where there wasn't – I think Gwen thought I was trying to make my life more exciting." Rhys looked up. "I just thought, it's Cardiff, they see aliens every day. They'd know more about it."

Jack's ghoulish smile softened into something a little more real. "You'd be surprised. It's easy to expect it when it's at work, or some random attack; it's harder to spot when it invades your life. It's hard to be on the lookout constantly. Occasionally… you just want it to be something normal so much that you can trick yourself into believing it is."

"Yeah. I could see how that happens." There was a long pause. "Jack, what is it? Him? You look like you knew."

"He's an Obyri. I haven't dealt with them, personally, but an organization I was once in did." Jack held up the arm that had his wrist strap. "This recognized him. He's tricky. I wouldn't have caught on to what he was otherwise. We would've figured it out eventually though. I knew something was wrong with Ianto." Jack glanced at Rhys and lowered his arm. "And Gwen. It was like she wasn't all there, right?"

Rhys nodded. He sucked in his lower lip to hold in the thousand questions roaming through his mind.

"What I don't get," Jack continued, "is how long he's managed to live here. The reason I could pick him up? It's because his kind were tracked down and wiped out. I was taught, we were all taught, you find an Obyri, you get rid of it. I should have been able to detect him before now. "

Rhys knew he looked shocked. This was a side of Jack that he hadn't heard before. This wasn't the flirtatious, smiling man who looked like he'd stepped out of an action movie. This was a hard man next to Rhys. A soldier, or maybe something a little more sinister. Someone who could talk about the omnicide of any creature without batting an eyelid.

"What's an Obyri?"

"Hunters. They hunt and infiltrate other species, like parasites. They find a species, adapt themselves to look like they belong, and feed. I've never met anyone who's seen them in their real form. But they're perfect hunters – everything about them, from their blood to their biology to their ability to change what they feed on, makes them a difficult opponent. So, most of the universe wiped them out. Colonies of Obyri took out whole planets."

"How do you know about this?"

Jack's mouth narrowed into a thin slash across his face. It was like Rhys could physically see him close off from him. "I just do. And there's one here now and he's got his… whatever it is he's got on my team." Jack glanced at Rhys. "And your wife."

It was like cotton in Rhys's mouth and he could hear his heartbeat in his own ears. He didn't want to ask his next questions. He really didn't. He wanted to go home, heat up some leftovers, and wait for Gwen to get back from the pub with Ianto and tell her about how weird Cardiff was. He always felt this way when Gwen was doing something with Torchwood. "What do they do to people?"

"They consume life force. It's different depending on the species. For humans, it's typically blood. The cells that carry energy and nutrients to the body. They steal it."

Rhys laughed. It was loud and filled the SUV with an artificial sense of an amusement. "What? Like a vampire?"

"Legends come from somewhere," Jack shrugged. "It's close enough to be true. Kill them by cutting off the head or fire or destroying their heart."

It took all of Rhys's strength to not hit the dashboard as the hysterical, disbelieving laughter rolled its way out of him and finally died. Once he caught his breath he gulped a few times and steadied himself. "You're telling me that Jerry, my neighbor upstairs, the bloke at the bar, is more or less a designer shirt wearing Dracula?"

"Yeah, yeah. I guess am." Jack answered, at least having the decency to look slightly embarrassed about his response.

"Well," Rhys began as the last bit of shock and hysteria left him. "I have to say, Jerry is a shit name for a vampire."

Now it was Jack's turn to chuckle, and thankfully, that sheen of hardness Rhys had noticed before melted away with the brief merriment.

"So what's he want with Gwen and Ianto?"

"I don't know. A pack, I guess."

"A what? He's a werewolf now?"

Jack's head snapped to the side to look disbelievingly at Rhys. "A... what? No! Those are terrifying an—"

"Jack! The road! Eyes!"

Rhys sighed with relief with Jack's focus went back to the blurring Cardiff streets. "Right," Jack continued. "They live with families. If he's here alone he needs people to help him blend. You never notice a guy with a group of friends and family. You notice the loners."

The SUV screeched to a halt, illegally, near the Millennium Center. Jack jumped out and motioned for Rhys to follow. Rhys looked back in annoyance – Jack wasn't even going to turn off the lights – before following.

They didn't head toward the invisible lift Rhys had used during his first visit to the Hub, nor to the garage entrance he'd used during any subsequent trips, but they headed toward the manky tourist office Ianto used to work in. Jack opened the door with his wrist strap and hit the lights. The place was dusty from disuse and the various leaflets and promotional material all seemed a touch out of date. When Jack caught Rhys studying the state of the office, he coughed.

"Ianto hasn't had a lot of time to be here up here since…"

Rhys nodded. Since they'd lost the other two members, Torchwood had since had to reevaluate what was really necessary to keep their ship afloat. Entertaining tourists had been one of the first things to go. Jack reached behind the counter and hit a button and a section of the brick wall behind Rhys sprung open.

"Come on," Jack said as he pushed past. "We need to get some supplies."

Rhys watched Jack go through medical cabinets and armory shelves with a wide-eyed look. He'd only been in the Hub a handful of times. Usually when the team needed food, or quick supplies, or one memorable time when Gwen had locked him in Jack's office because of some weird parasite that had been infecting people, but normally he was ushered out as soon as he'd arrived. Now he looked around and saw the dust gathering in corners, the unused work stations, and the place felt too big and empty. A shell. Most people would be too awed by the high ceilings, the mash of Victorian and modern technology and miss seeing it. It was a little easier to spot when Rhys and Jack were the only souls about. Even the dinosaur Rhys had seen on his first visit was absent.

Rhys was leaning against Gwen's workstation, feeling useless, when Jack reappeared with a duffel bag bulging with loot. "Ready."

Rhys nodded toward the supply bag. "What's that then?"

"Hunting gear. Help for our wayward lambs." Jack dumped the bag on the cluttered work desk and unzipped. Inside were three handguns, a stun gun, a few torches, and a plastic med-kit case filled with syringes and vials of a dark gold liquid.

Rhys picked up the med-kit and Jack jerked it away again. "So is that a tranq? Drug the bastard and make him fix Gwennie?"

"Not exactly. He's poisoned them. I think. Maybe." Jack shrugged and looked a little sheepish. "I know the procedure for what to do with these things but… I've never dealt with one. He's keeping them drugged. Did you look in Gwen's eyes?"

Rhys's face flushed. He had, but he hadn't thought much about it. He'd thought she'd been pissed. He'd been angry and irrational and not expecting fucking aliens to kidnap his wife for a night clubbing. Rhys shook his head in the negative.

Jack raised an eyebrow, then cleared his throat when Rhys looked back at him in obvious discomfort. "You weren't looking for anything to be wrong. It's okay."

"And you were?"

Jack shrugged. Rhys didn't like that answer. Jack was being tactful. While Rhys had wanted to relish in evidence of Jack being a poor partner, Jack was trying to soften Rhys's own failings.

Rhys looked down at his hands. "So that was an act then? You wanting to go home with him and that girl?"

There was a heavy pause in the room before Jack cleared his throat. "Anyway, Ianto's eyes were… off. Like he was having trouble concentrating. Every time I got his attention he'd look at me and I'd see something struggling and…" Jack waved a hand dramatically in front him. "He'd float off again."

Rhys stiffened his shoulders and took a deep breath. He may not have not known something was wrong with Gwen before, but he'd make up for it now. With a quick jerk, Rhys stole the bag of supplies from Jack and shouldered it himself. "Is he going to hurt Gwen?"

Jack met Rhys's new resolve with a grim expression. "I doubt it. He's using them as a substitute pack. He'll keep them close. Gwen'll be fine," Jack assured him. "However, I'd rather her not spend too much time in his company. She's got enough bad influences, don't you think?"

For the first time in the past few hours, Rhys laughed and actually meant it. He followed Jack out of the Hub and felt a wave of confidence building in him. There really had been an alien, Rhys had caught onto it before two bona fide alien catchers and now he was going off to be the dashing hero and rescue his Gwen. At the SUV, Rhys opened the back door and tossed their supplies in. Jack held up his wrist strap and pointed it toward the tourist center and hit a couple of buttons before jumping into the driver's side of the car. The SUV roared to life and, once Rhys was strapped in, they started away from the Plass. They were off. To be heroes. It was perversely satisfying.

Jack turned rather sharply down one of the quieter Cardiff side streets. It was getting on in the night and the neighborhoods weren't nearly as busy as the areas with bars and restaurants. As it was, Rhys couldn't help thinking things felt good. Rhys was a decent sidekick so far. Maybe not as good as Ianto – he imagined he provided far fewer quips – but it was going well. That was when a figure darted into the middle of the road and stood, defiantly, in the path of the oncoming vehicle.

Jack swore and slammed the brakes. With a screech of protest, the SUV slid across the road half-hazardly before jerking to a stop a few feet from the pedestrian.

Or not a pedestrian, Rhys thought, once the pounding his chest settled enough for him to take stock of himself, he saw Jerry Dandridge standing in the road, grinning at them like a mad man. Jack swore in a language that may not have been English and pointed at Rhys. "Stay inside. Do not leave that seat. Do you understand?"

Rhys nodded.

"Rhys. Say you understand."

"I understand," Rhys mumbled. When Jack's gaze didn't waver, he held up his hands. "I mean it. Won't move my arse a muscle."

Satisfied, Jack exited the vehicle and Rhys heard the automatic locks click into place behind him. Rhys could see from the window the exact moment where the concerned, nervous Jack Harkness vanished and was replaced by the smooth, big smiles and easy charm action hero. There was a roll of the shoulders and a mask fell into place that could fool anyone. It had been fooling Rhys until Jack had started babbling about space-vampires and Gwen and Ianto with a tight, worried expression that had made Rhys's stomach do flips.

Rhys watched as Jack sauntered forward until he was level with the front of the SUV. He had one hand on his hip, a move calculated to reveal the holster secured there. Jack's mouth moved and Rhys could barely hear him. Quickly, he looked at the console on his door and fumbled about until he found a button to lower the window a crack.

"—It's the jawline, I tell people. Once seen, always longed for." Oh good. He'd only missed Jack's flirting. He heard enough of that already.

Jerry smirked at Jack's joke and stuck his hands in the pockets of his black trousers. "That was almost funny, you know? How often does that work for you?"

The smile on Jack's face noticeably dimmed. "Where are Gwen and Ianto?" It was the same question Rhys had been wondering. A scan of the quiet street revealed nothing. It was dark, and Rhys could only make out Jerry and Jack because of the unnatural glow of the street lamp nearby and the lights of the SUV itself.

"They're fine," Jerry sighed with an eye roll. "Keeping the nest warm, as it was. Why wouldn't they be?"

"Because you're controlling them. As far as I know, you could be keeping them around for a snack."

A slightly surprised, and impressed, look crossed Jerry's face. It was gone almost as quickly as it appeared. "Ah, see, this is where you have me at a disadvantage. You seem to, somehow, know some of my secrets and I don't know any of yours. This isn't a good way to start a relationship."

"Give them back and we'll have a nice chat for however long you like."

The bark of laughter that filled the street was almost unnaturally loud and it made Rhys flinch. "Come on – Jack, was it? Jack, I've been around long enough that we don't need to waste time with bullshit. I came here thinking you were a jealous boyfriend. Thought I'd give you and your bumbling sidekick over there a scare and get back in time for another drink or two. Now you're coming off as a threat. I don't like threats."

"I'm not threatening you. I'm warning you. Release them or you'll deal with me. And trust me, I'm more trouble than I think you suspect." Jack's hand flexed and he seemed to be struggling with the urge to pull out his Webley then and there.

"And what are you, exactly?" Jerry took a step forward. He paused when Jack's hand twitched, again, toward the gun. "You're not like them. I can smell you now. I didn't realize that was you in the club. Too many bodies."

"I'm pretty unique."

"Yeah," the alien agreed. "I could smell you all over them earlier – the male was practically bathed in it. I didn't know what it was." Jerry inhaled loudly, as if he was trying to soak up the aroma of a freshly baked dessert. "You're exhilarating. Exotic. Something… not from this place. We have that in common."

At this point, while fairly riveted to the drama unfolding in front of him, Rhys made a mental note to find out why his wife smelled like Jack to hostile aliens. It was also fairly obvious that Jack wasn't enjoying Jerry's attentions as much as he normally enjoyed a bit of a come on.

Jack's neck looked tense. It was obvious that Jerry was trying to intimidate Jack or get him to back down. "I told you already – always yearned for. Now, as much as I enjoy any topic that's about me. We're here because we seem to have a conflicting interest."

"Ah, we're arguing over the kids again. So, I've stolen your playmates? What? Do you keep the male under your bed?"

Jack snorted. "Ianto's much more fun on top of it."

"Yeah, I know. They both are."

Rhys surprised himself by snarling at the remark, and caught himself before he tore open the door to smash that smug bastard's face. However, as angry as it made Rhys, that comment apparently broke whatever control Jack had left. He stormed forward, looking every bit the intimidating and angry soldier Rhys saw before, and grabbed the collar of Jerry's shirt. "What are you doing to them?"

The next part surprised Rhys more than anything he'd seen of late – and that was quite a lot. Jerry flipped Jack Harkness away from him like one would deal with an unruly dog. Jack's body slammed into the SUV and Rhys screamed (in what he'd later call a manly fashion) from the shock of it.

Jack rolled off the car and onto the ground, gasping. He stood up, looking a little surprised himself, and balanced himself against the car. "That's quite a punch."

"I didn't punch you. You'll know by your bones breaking when I do that." Jerry leapt forward again, his hand clenched into a fist, and Jack barely dodged out of the way in time. The fist, when it impacted the black paneling of the SUV, left a giant dent and rattled the vehicle. Despite Rhys knowing the thing out there was alien, despite watching it fling Jack like a ragdoll, there was something unsettling about seeing such a human looking creature's attack leave such an inhuman mark. Rhys looked out and caught Jerry's eye. The monster's lips curled in a cold, ghastly fashion and he slammed into the SUV again, causing it to rock on its wheels. Rhys ducked his head, afraid that the glass windshield would be next, but no impact came.

When Rhys managed to peek above the dash, he saw Jack and Jerry grappling near the sidewalk. Jack must have tackled the stronger man when he was distracted, but Jerry was quickly regaining lost ground. They wrestled, and Jerry managed to push Jack away by a few feet. Jack pulled out his Webley and fired a round, then another, before Jerry could attack again. The bullets pushed him back, but didn't seem to faze him otherwise. Jack swore.

Seeing the bullets ineffectively strike Jerry reminded Rhys of the duffel bag of weapons and gear in the backseat. Scrambling, Rhys grabbed the bag from the backseats. Jack had to know what killed the thing; he'd seemed confident of that in the Hub. Rhys unlocked the door pushed it open and held up the bag.

"Jack!"

Jack's head snapped toward Rhys. "Get back inside," he snarled. "Now, Rhys." Rhys slammed the door, still clutching the duffel and feeling adequately chastised, but it was too late. While Jack was distracted, Jerry had yanked a metal pole from the banister of a nearby set of stairs. When Jack turned to confront his opponent again, he was met with the sharp, blinding feeling of metal slamming into his gut. Jack staggered, then dropped to his knees. Jerry chuckled and shoved Jack down on the ground, the bigger man falling onto his side with a gasp of pure pain.

In the SUV, Rhys sat wide-eyed. That'd been his fault. He'd wanted to help, he'd wanted to do something other than play spectator, and now Jack was hurt. Badly. Even if he managed to rescue Gwen and Ianto, they'd both murder him. As Jerry approached Jack, either to finish the job or to torment him, Rhys slammed on the steering wheel, causing the car's horn to blare. Jerry turned to Rhys, and in the light looked more like a predator than anything Rhys had ever seen. His teeth, bared in a hiss, were sharp and it seemed like there were far too many for his mouth. His face had taken on a pointed, gaunt look and his eyes – his eyes were solid black.

Without even looking back at Jack, Jerry started to marched toward Rhys.

"I'm going to take you with me. I'm going to make her watch me drain you, you nosey son of a bitch. Couldn't stay out of my way, could you? "

Rhys stared, open mouthed, and didn't know what do. He didn't know what weapons to use, or how to fight the thing. He was starting to feel like a piece of tinned meat in the SUV. Jerry was just a few feet away when Rhys heard someone yell his name. He looked about, panicked, and spotted Jack Harkness – that beautiful bastard – with a pole still in his stomach and supporting himself against a lamppost.

"Rhys! Gray button. Next to the headlights. Hit it. Now." Jack slumped back toward the ground and Rhys didn't hesitate to leap over the middle console and look for this button. There were lots of buttons. What kind of car needed this many buttons? Then Rhys spotted it; next to the switch for the lamps, there was a triangle shaped gray button.

Before Rhys could hit it, the entire SUV shook and rocked and Rhys looked up with a gasp. Jerry was standing in front of the grill of the vehicle, his hands splayed across the bonnet. "I thought the British were supposed to be these overly polite, standoffish neighbors. You really break the stereotype." The conversational tone coming out of the now translucent and blue tinted lips made Rhys shudder. He fumbled again and pressed the triangular button.

The lights on the front of the car brightened significantly and Jerry howled before staggering back. There was smoke rising from his clothes and patches of his skin were red. Another inhuman scream tore from Jerry's mouth as he hit the ground, trying to roll out of the way of the high beams assaulting his flesh. Rhys watched, horrified himself, as blisters appeared on Jerry's skin. Then, in a strike of bad luck for Rhys and Jack, Jerry rolled out of the beams and stood. Rhys expected a renewed assault. Rhys expected to die, but Jerry was swaying on his feet, as if the encounter had drained him. He glared, bared his fangs again, and snarled before fleeing the scene.

It took a minute for Rhys to catch his breath. Adrenalin buzzed through his veins and caused a slight pounding in his ears that left him feeling light headed. After his heart slowed, Rhys looked outside and saw Jack, still slumped against a lamppost, and swore. He hustled out of the vehicle to the other man, dropping to his knees to inspect the damage.

Jack was dead.

It looked like, before dying, Jack had managed to pull the pole from his chest. The pain and balls that must have taken baffled Rhys. Jack had to have known he'd bleed out, but he'd done it anyway. Now, Rhys knew Jack couldn't die. He'd seen Jack resurrect after that mess with the old warehouse bombing. He'd never die, that's what Gwen had told him. He'd listened on more than a few evenings to Gwen and Ianto exchanging confidences, theories and recollections of Jack's condition. However, he'd never actually been there when Jack died, and that was a different feeling entirely. He was actually dead. His skin was the dull color of a bled out corpse and his body was limp. His eyes were open, glassy and blank, when Rhys came over. Rhys hastily closed them – though he was unsure if that little gesture was for Jack or himself. It was obvious that, until now, Rhys had been confused about the extent of Jack's immortality. Rhys had always suspected that, on top of the resurrection bit, Jack must've had some resilience to death that others didn't. Now he knew. Jack could die like anyone else, but according to Gwen and Ianto, Jack couldn't, ever, stay dead. He was less invincible and more of a perpetual meat shield.

Rhys sat on the sidewalk next to the corpse of Captain Jack Harkness and tried to figure out what to do. This street was quiet now, but the police had to be on their way after the gunshots were fired. He needed to move Jack. He needed to find Gwen. He needed to figure out some way to kill a super-strong space vampire. The to-do list was far too long and Rhys's shoulders sagged. He would never complain about his job being a dull ever again. He'd work in transport for the rest of his days and find it exciting, he pledged to himself.

Just then, a piercing gasp burst forth from Jack's previously dead lips. Rhys jumped back a little and Jack squirmed and thrashed, disorientated, before grabbing the lamppost to steady himself. Jack took a few more deep breaths and looked at Rhys with wide eyes. Coming back to life looked fairly painful to Rhys. Before, he'd assumed it was the result of Jack having a building collapse on him. Apparently the pain was par for the course.

"You stayed," Jack breathed out. He looked relieved.

Rhys nodded. "I didn't know what else to do. We need to get Gwen."

"Jerry?"

"Got away. What the hell was with those lights?"

Jack pulled himself upright and jumped to his feet with only a slight touch of wobble to him. "UV Lights. We had them installed about two years ago. You'd be surprised how many creatures that fall through the rift are sensitive to sunlight. If the day doesn't fry them, we take care of them at night."

Rhys said nothing. He was unsure of how to respond to that. It baffled him at times that Torchwood, or any organization, could exist that had protocols for "dangerous creatures that don't like the sun" like his own job had procedures for deliveries involving liquids. "I'm sorry," Rhys said finally. "About the… you know. I didn't mean to make you holey." Rhys gestured at Jack's shirt, which was bloody and had a hole in front of it. The skin beneath the rip was smooth and unblemished.

It was Jack's turn to nod now. He opened the driver door and faced Rhys with a serious expression. "I'm going to need your help," he said stonily. "Gwen is going to need your help. However, if you ever disobey orders like that again, I'll feed you to Ianto's damned dinosaur. Got it?"

Rhys responded in the affirmative and slid into the passenger seat. He clicked his seatbelt to fasten and stared out at the dark Cardiff night. Torchwood was difficult. Not for the first time, Rhys wondered what Gwen's training must have been like. It must have been intensive and, poor lass, she had been forced to keep it all a secret.

"What do we do now?"

Jack winced when his own seatbelt caused the cold, blood soaked fabric of his shirt to press closer to his skin. "We check out his last known location. Figure out where Gwen and Ianto went from there. Then we kill him. Good plan?"

"Brilliant."


	5. Part Five

Unfortunately, their good plan didn't extend to good luck. Jack and Rhys headed back toward St. Mary's Street to the club where they'd first spotted Jerry with his misbegotten minions. After an uncomfortable conversation with the owner - where Rhys had to quietly mention to Jack to button up his coat because the visible blood on his shirt was going to weird people out- they discovered that Jerry was no longer there. It'd taken a few rounds of drink and some particularly crafty interrogating on Jack's part to discover that the trio had been planning to hit another club, some way over, and had invited some of the more attractive patronage to join them.

If Rhys didn't know better, he swore he saw a twitch on Jack's face at the story of "the tall local bloke" waiting outside with a cigarette dangling from his mouth and a girl trying to get her hand down his trousers. Rhys pointedly blocked out any stories about Gwen. Not only did he insist on believing that his Gwen, mind control or not, wouldn't let most of these men near her, but living in relative obliviousness had served him well so far through married life.

In the SUV again, on the way to their next destination, Rhys chewed on his nails. The silence was killing him as much as the stress of the situation. This must be Jack when he's worried, Rhys concluded, and that didn't help him with the worry in his own belly.

"Didn't know Ianto smokes," Rhys commented lamely. Jack cocked an eyebrow and tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

"He quits every few months. Then something tries to kill him and he starts back."

"Ah."

"Don't tell Gwen. He likes to think he's keeping it secret from us." Jack sighed and swerved in front of a fairly angry car. "He really likes his secrets."

Rhys let his hand fall uselessly in his lap. "Jack? Is he going to hurt them?"

Jack didn't answer at first. The SUV jerked, swerved and hit a curb as Jack quickly parked it on a busy street. Rhys was fairly certain that there wasn't parking allowed here like everywhere Jack apparently deemed appropriate to leave his vehicle, but one look at the serious expression on Jack's face made any objections die on Rhys's lips. Jack opened his car door.

"Rhys, I promise you I will see that creature bloodied and broken before I let him harm a hair on either of their heads. Now grab the gear, we've got to go be dashing heroes and kill a vampire."

"I thought you said he wasn't a vampire?"

"Whatever." Jack rolled his eyes as they walked across the street. The new club was called The Mask. There was a gaggle of people out front, so it wasn't easy to see signs of Jerry or anyone else who looked to be enthralled to a blood-drinking alien. The building was on a corner with an alley separating it from a row of trendy boutiques and restaurants – all currently closed. "Okay. Our current plan is to locate the kids. You hold our weapons until then. He gets near, you hand me a weapon. He dies by fire, removing the head or destroying the heart with silver; and gets some nasty burns from UV radiation. We try not to hurt Gwen or Ianto. However, once I engage the target you get them out in whatever way you must. Got it?"

Rhys nodded and pulled at the collar of his shirt. Scared? Yes. Prepared? Not at all. Blindly going into danger anyway? Definitely. Sounded about right for Torchwood.

As they crossed the street, Rhys saw the guard at the door touch his ear, using presumably a Bluetooth, and talking to someone while looking at Jack. Rhys trotted forward and tugged on Jack's coat sleeve. "I don't think we have the element of surprise anymore, Jack."

Pulling sharply, Jack freed his arm and Rhys saw a muscle tighten in his jaw. "Yeah, not really caring about that. He knew we were coming."

Rhys nodded. His entire body was tingling with nerves and his stomach felt like lead. Is this what Gwen felt every day? He doubted it. She always looked like going to work was just as difficult as going to the grocery. Jack stopped abruptly and Rhys, still nervously watching the bouncer, smacked right into his back. It was like hitting a wall. Rhys bounced back and scrambled to keep himself from falling. He righted himself, tugged at the bottom of his shirt, and put on his serious expression.

"Oi, Jack. What was that about?"

Jack held up a hand to silence Rhys. "Over there. In that group of students."

Near a group of University kids, leaning against a wall, were Ianto and Jerry. Jerry had an arm looped around Ianto's waist and was smoking a cigarette. His hair was mussed and he was smiling flirtatiously at whatever girl or boy caught his eye. He reminded Rhys, uncomfortably, of Jack. He'd seen Jack in the same contradictory pose quite a few times. He'd have an arm around Ianto, or a hand clasped around a shoulder in a possessive gesture and all the while sending smiles and winks toward whoever else took his fancy. The difference between now and then was Ianto. Ianto, instead of his normal bemused or affectionate expression, look exhausted and distant. The top two buttons of his shirt were unclasped and he leaned heavily against Jerry.

Jerry looked up and saw Jack. He waved and put out his cigarette before guiding Ianto away from the front door and further into the crowd of club-goers gathered on the sidewalk. Jack swore and darted forward with Rhys close on his heels.

"Ianto?" Jack yelled. He pushed through the crowds of people, winking at one girl who yelped in surprise at his touch. That, even in the middle of chasing after Jerry and Ianto, bristled Rhys. He'd have been smacked pretty thoroughly if he tried the same, Rhys thought as he tried to follow Jack. They reached the corner where the alley emptied into the street and Jack glanced around quickly before disappearing into the dark.

"Oh yeah," Rhys panted. "That won't give him any sort of advantage." When he turned into the alley, Jack had his gun drawn. It was a dead-end from what Rhys could see. Jerry was near the end, pressing Ianto against the brick wall of one of the buildings with his head buried against Ianto's neck. Rhys gasped and fumbled for the bag even as Jack lifted his Webley.

"Jack," Rhys yelped. "Gun." He pulled out one of the handguns Jack had packed, it looked similar to Gwen's and nothing like the antique he'd seen Jack carry all night. Jack snapped out of his daze and yelled at the figures down the alley.

"Let him go," Jack growled as he grabbed the new weapon from Rhys. He flipped off the safety and raised the gun to aim in one fluid motion. Jerry's head snapped up and Rhys was taken aback by the change. The person Rhys remembered was gone and, once again, he saw the alien closer to his true self. He was animalistic. His face smeared with Ianto's blood and his eyes large, oval shaped like a predator's and that inky black again. Gone was the sculpted chin and easy smile. Instead, a mouth with too many shark-like teeth and just too large for his face to be actually human, had taken its place. He looked… demonic. One hand was up, wrapped tightly around Ianto's throat, and Rhys could see in the murky sodium lights behind them that jagged looking silvery claws were attached to too long fingers. His other hand was bunched in Ianto's shirt, holding the sickly man upright.

Ianto's neck was a bloodied mess and Rhys couldn't bear to look at his too pale face and glazed eyes for more than a moment. Apparently, neither could Jack. Jack took another step forward, gun still aimed determinedly at Jerry, and his face a mask of fury that Rhys couldn't ever remember seeing before. "Let him go," Jack repeated.

Like a dog clearing itself of water, Jerry shook his head – nearly too fast for Rhys to follow – and when he finished the same movie star looks Rhys had grown accustomed to seeing were back. Rhys raised his eyebrows and took a step back. This was getting to be too much and his fight or flight instinct was kicking in and definitely leaning more toward the flight side of things. Jerry cocked his head and a deathly grim pout cast over his face.

"Jack Harkness, I gotta admit, I really didn't think you'd be here so quick." Jerry jerked his head toward Ianto. "He did though. He and Gwennie Beth say you can't die." Rhys's eyes narrowed at Jerry's use of Gwen's middle name. The fucker didn't have the right. "You don't have a pole in you so I guess they're right about you being a persistent fucker."

"Where's Gwen?" It took Rhys a second to realize that the outburst had come from him. It seemed to put off Jack and Jerry too. Jerry's focus turned to Rhys and Rhys felt the hairs on his arms stand at the expression of disgust on the monster's face directed at him.

"You've been a lot more trouble than I thought you'd be," Jerry complained. "I thought you were just nosey and, fairly certain here buddy, if you hadn't delivered up the hot wife and boy toy I would've ripped your throat out by now."

"Yeah, well, you didn't," Rhys blinked at the inadequacy of his own comeback and Jerry just looked… amused.

"Alright, Jack Harkness," Jerry said, dismissing Rhys with barely more than a shrug, "you're determined, I'll give you that. You're also going to be more of a pain than I want to deal with and you're equipped with an obnoxious amount of knowledge about me. Very unfair. I don't like conflict – all in all I'm a pretty peaceful guy and I know when it's time to retreat. So. I'm ready to negotiate."

Jack shook his head. "No negotiating. Let him go. Tell me where Gwen is."

The laughter that escaped Jerry's lips sounded dry and cold. He squeezed Ianto's neck and a fresh trickling of blood spilled over his fingers. "Negotiate."

It was obvious to Rhys that Jerry had found Jack's weak point, which meant it had to be obvious to Jerry as well. Ianto groaned and his mouth fell open in shock. As soon as the low, pained noise filled the alley Jack's arm wavered,

Jerry raised an eyebrow at Jack. "I'm trying to figure out if I can snap his neck before you can fire your gun." That did it. Jack lowered his gun to his side and let his arms hang limply. Jerry nodded in approval. "So I'm going to make you a deal."

Jack said nothing, though it didn't seem to deter Jerry.

"I seem to have, completely accidentally on my part, raided your little nest and stolen both of your chicks. So, now I have the attention of someone who, I imagine, isn't going to let up and just let me be, and a surplus of followers."

Rhys shifted his weight and inhaled sharply. "No," he snapped as his brain started to put together the path of conversation. Jerry ignored him.

"So, I have these two. And, good finds that they are – one so desperate to be noticed and the other one just wanting so damn much to be special - they were just asking for someone to scoop them up. Actually, I imagine that's what's attracting you too, isn't it? You keep them like followers just the same."

"Shut up," Jack gritted out between his clenched jaw. "Don't fucking dare compare it."

Jerry chuckled and his hand slackened around Ianto's shirt, running up to stroke his cheek. Ianto's eyes were squeezed shut and he was breathing heavily, but didn't appear to know where he was or what was going on around him. "So the deal," Jerry continued, his gaze going back to Jack. "Is pretty simple. I'll give this one back – it'd take forever to get your stench off him anyway – and you will let me leave with the female. Otherwise, I'll get away from you, I promise you that, and I'll kill him. I'll kill him in this dirty alley and he'll know it was because of you. I'll kill every person I come across on my way out of this shit city and every single one of those deaths will be on your head."

At that, Rhys's stomach dropped. He looked at Jack, tempted to grab his arm, shake him, and demand he shoot the bastard then and there. Jack wouldn't, would he? Gwen said he had the nerve to sacrifice anyone, even her or Ianto, if he needed to do so. It's one of the reasons that, no matter how many dinners or nights out at the pub, Rhys could never really warm to the man. One of the reasons. That coldness, and Gwen's solemn tone as she told Rhys what she thought Jack was capable of, always lingered around him. And now, Jack had to choose between the life of the person who shared his bed and Rhys's wife. Rhys reached forward tentatively. "Jack?" He hated how his voice sounded shaky, even to him. Jack snarled, actually snarled, and Rhys jerked his hand away before he made contact. He couldn't even begin to decipher the expression on Jack's face.

Jack took a deep breath and he opened his mouth, but his eyes flickered to Ianto's face and he seemed to hesitate. "You'll kill even if you leave," Jack finally mumbled. "You'll kill wherever you go. It won't matter what I choose"

A shrug lifted Jerry's shoulders as if to concede Jack's point. "So then I guess it's a matter of which one you want to lose. Come on, Jack Harkness. It's sharing. I'm no worse than you. I need them to fit in here. Is that different from what you're getting out of them? I've seen things from them. You were an interesting topic after our little run in earlier."

The silence in the alley was oppressive. It felt like death itself was now lurking in the shadows and oozing out of the brickwork.

Before the silence reached the point where Rhys actually wanted to scream, Jack, with an almost anguished noise, shook his head and lifted his gun in Jerry's direction. "I'm not choosing between them. That's the difference. They're mine. You've no claim to them and I don't hurt them. They chose this. Me. Not you." Jerry snorted and opened his mouth to contradict Jack's statement but stopped when Jack's finger curled around his gun's trigger. "So, I've got some bullets in this, and I think you know they'll hurt. Irradiated silver. Poison that will go straight through you. That's my offer. I won't shoot you if you let him go."

Now it was Jerry's turn to hesitate, and he squeezed Ianto's throat, blood running over his hand from whatever wound he was covering. Jack fired instantly, emptying the small clip, and scored a direct hit to the alien's shoulder. Jerry hissed, his face twisting back into its true animalistic form, and he flung Ianto's limp body toward Rhys and Jack. Rhys jumped forward, just as Jack dropped his gun to do the same, and they caught Ianto before his head could crack against the dirty pavement. Rhys fell to his knees, grimacing at the jolt of pain that shot through him, and eased Ianto into Jack's lap. When he looked up, Jerry was gone, and for the first time during that evening of insanity and vampiric aliens, Rhys let his anger show. He stood up, swearing loudly, spinning around to see where their opponent went. When nothing made itself immediately visible, Rhys swung his fist into the brick wall of the nearby restaurant. And… that hurt. The rage dissipated as he clutched his hand to his chest, bleeding now and feeling more than a little daft. He rubbed his eyes with his good hand, exhausted, and dropped down to where Jack was lightly shaking Ianto, hoping to bring him back to consciousness.

Rhys didn't realize he was holding his breath until Ianto's eyes flickered open, but both he and Jack exhaled at the same time. "Ianto," Jack breathed. "You with us?"

Ianto blinked, then winced as if that small act pained him, and looked up at Jack with some of the most tired eyes Rhys had ever seen. There was the barest of nods and Ianto shivered. "'m cold," he mumbled. It didn't take Jack more than a moment to shrug out of his great coat and wrap it around the younger man.

Rhys flexed his leg muscles, his knees and hand aching, and his patience running thin. "Ianto, mate," Rhys choked out. "Do you know where he has Gwen? If you know, please tell me." Jack shot Rhys a venomous look and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the blood from Ianto's throat.

Ianto's eyes drifted toward Rhys and held his gaze for a long moment before nodding again. "There's a private room… I think. Things are fuzzy." Ianto's eyes flickered and slid closed before a squeeze from Jack caused him to jerk awake. "It's downstairs. She was there. It's not safe. She's not… he's killing people. I saw him kill – oh god, I helped lure –" Jack shifted Ianto's weight in his arms and held him little closer until Ianto calmed. "Get her out," Ianto finished, after the initial panic faded and he was left looking wrung out and drained, quite literally.

Jack nodded and ran his hand over Ianto's neck, checking for still bleeding wounds or worse damage. Ianto didn't appear to be losing any more blood, but oh, he really was cold and he looked so pale. Nearly gray at this point. "Right," Jack sighed, his fingers digging into Ianto's arm. "Game plan is to get Ianto some help – or somewhere safe – and get Gwen. We've got him on the run and he's hurt. He'll be weaker, but desperate because of it. You good, Rhys? Rhys?" Jack looked up when no response came immediately and bit his lip to keep from screaming in frustration. The alley was empty. Rhys Williams was gone. Worse still, except for the now ammo-less gun lying somewhere nearby, Rhys Williams had taken every single weapon Jack had brought with them.

It took every ounce of self-control that Jack didn't even know he possessed to stop himself from shouting and punching a wall himself. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and counted to ten. When he was finished, there was still quite a bit of rage running through him, but at least it wasn't of the homicidal nature anymore. Jack brow furrowed as he assessed his situation. Ianto's eyes were cloudy again – Jack was losing him even now to whatever influence Jerry had over him. Jack tapped Ianto's cheek one, twice and then Ianto blinked up at him in that same sad, slow fashion as earlier.

"Hey," Jack said with a smile. "I need to move you."

"Tired," Ianto mumbled.

"Yeah, I know." Jack slid his knees up and helped hoist Ianto unsteadily onto his feet. He was leaning his entire weight onto Jack and his face looked tense. "You're alright," Jack soothed. "I'll get you somewhere to sleep."

It took a bit of an effort, but Jack half-carried and half-dragged Ianto to the SUV. Fortunately, the crowds near the club had thinned out either from boredom or the sound of gunfire. The ones still there, more than likely, thought Jack was helping a friend who had overindulged home. It helped that Jack's long great coat covered the majority of blood starting to dry on Ianto.

At last, Jack crossed the final distance to the SUV. The back still had the seats down and the Plexiglas barrier up from a weevil retrieval earlier in the day, which was perfect for Jack's current needs. Ianto looked at Jack, confused, when he opened the rear door of the SUV with the remote lock. "I know it's not a warm bed and bath, but it's the best I can do right now," Jack apologized. He eased Ianto into the cargo area of the vehicle and tucked his coat tighter around Ianto's frame. Jack sat on the edge of the car. "What was he giving you to keep you... you know?"

Ianto frowned and rubbed his face like a child who'd stayed up far too late. "Things are fuzzy," he repeated and the exhaustion evident in his voice made even Jack feel tired. "It keeps going in and out. I get… glimpses and sometimes they don't make sense." Jack waited while Ianto tried to piece bits of the past day together. "Blood," Ianto coughed. "Oh fuck, that's disgusting."

Jack laughed but there was no humor or warmth to the noise. "I was afraid you'd say that." He sighed and stood up, though he still leaned partially into the SUV to talk to Ianto. "I'm locking you in here." Ianto looked about to protest and Jack raised a hand to silence him. "You're compromised. You're injured and I think that's why you're… here right now. You were starting to go on me a few minutes ago though," Jack explained. "I need to go find Gwen, and stop Rhys from getting killed so I can kill him later, and he's run off with my weapons and your antidote."

That news seemed to drain whatever strength Ianto had left in him, and he wilted, burying himself further in Jack's coat. "Is everything going to be okay?"

Jack's face softened. "Oh yeah, I'm going to kill the bastard. Nobody messes with my crew." With a smile, Jack leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Ianto's forehead. "It'll be easy. Kill the super strong alien, without weapons, rescue the Williams couple, and give you and Gwen a nice big cocktail of drugs to get rid of that nasty alien blood. Nothing I haven't done before." Ianto laughed, briefly, and returned Jack's smile with a shadowy one of his own.

"Well, hurry up. I'm going to sleep if you don't mind."

"Don't mind at all," Jack replied. He closed the latch on the SUV door and locked it. Ianto wouldn't be able to get to the front seats, nor unlock anything from where he was, so there wasn't really anywhere safer Jack could think to keep him. Safety was covered. Now he just needed to worry about blood loss, trauma and whatever other injuries were lurking; but first, time to find Gwen Cooper. And murder Rhys Williams.


	6. Part Six

**Author's Notes: **Aaand this one is finished. I wanted to get the last part up before 2012. Thank you everyone that reviewed, made it a favorite or just went along for the ride. I really liked writing Rhys, and I think I improved some rusty writing skills over the course of this project. Have a safe holiday!

Rhys didn't know what had made him run. If anyone were to ask him later, if he was still alive later, he'd tell them that it was just instinct. He'd heard Ianto's voice, still ripe with fear and pain, telling him where his wife was, and that she was in danger, and his legs had started moving on their own. It was best, at this point, as Rhys skidded around a corner toward the bouncer of The Mask, to ask for forgiveness later. Jack would probably be preoccupied with Ianto anyway.

Almost falling over himself, Rhys managed to stop when the beefy security at the door held up a hand to stop him. "Sorry, mate," the overgrown ape sniped. "Club's full for the night." Rhys shook his head, straightened his shoulders, and gave the look he shot at his staff when they told him a delivery would be late or a shipment had gone poorly. It was his authoritative 'I didn't want to do this, but you've made me be the boss' expression.

"No, mate, I don't think you understand," Rhys took a step forward. "I'm not going in there to buy your watery overpriced martinis or try to pick up a girl. I'm going in there because I have to – it's my job." The man didn't look like he believed Rhys… and then his eyes fell on the duffel bag hanging from Rhys's shoulder.

"Oh bloody hell. You're with Torchwood. Is this place about to explode?" The bouncer held up his hands in surrender and took a step back and Rhys took that moment to look down at his bag. It was emblazoned with the Torchwood logo. He really needed to talk to Team Torchwood about why on earth a secret organization put their logo on everything. It seemed a bit counter-intuitive, even if it proved useful right now. "I'm only looking for some extra quid for school. I don't want any trouble," the bouncer continued.

Rhys nodded, feeling more confident than he had in years. "Yeah, well, stay out here and you won't be in any trouble." As Rhys entered, he turned back to the bouncer one last time. "And stop acting so hard. You're not fooling anyone."

The club was dark and full of people, but Rhys wasn't interested in anyone who gathered about the bar. He scanned the mass of bodies and looked for anything that resembled another entrance or a private room. There, in the corner, he spotted what he was after. A doorway with a sheer curtain over it and a perky looking woman with a clipboard standing watch nearby. She was cute, dark haired, big eyed and Rhys was starting to think Jerry had a type. He worked his way through the crowd while trying to come up with a plan. He wasn't going to intimidate himself past a slip of a girl. He wasn't that type of man.

A group of loud, intoxicated young men stood huddled around a table. Rhys grinned and headed over toward them. "Oi, boys," Rhys yelled over the noise. The men turned to look at him with a "fuck off" attitude popular amongst those out on the pull. "That's my girl's flatmate over there." He jerked his head back toward the basement entrance. "She's had a bad break up – been single and lingering at home too much. She's getting off work in an hour and we're hoping she'll have some company tonight and give us a night off. Catch my drift?" One of the men laughed and took a swig of some horribly cheap beer.

"Yeah, I'd give her a go. We'll see." Rhys nodded and pulled out his wallet and slapped a twenty on the table. "Buy her a drink. Give us a break, will you?"

He trotted away with a smile and wave to get lost in the din of people. Finally, one of the men approached that poor young girl and tried to chat her up. Rhys smirked to himself at her eye roll and generally frustrated attitude before using the distraction to grab a half empty drink off the bar and slip, as subtly as he could (which honestly, probably wasn't all that subtle) down to the basement.

There was a flight of stairs leading down, and it was dimly lit with lamps made to look like antique gas lanterns. The walls were painted a garish dark purple that added to the gloom and pseudo-gothic nature of the place. When Rhys reached the bottom of the stairs, he found himself in front of a partially closed door. The music was still audible down here, but it was now more of a soft vibration and background noise rather than a full audio assault. Rhys crept forward and pressed his back against the wall. There were voices in the other room.

"Fuck fuck fuck ,that hurt," a deep male voice growled. It was Jerry. Rhys took a risk and peeked through the crack of the door. The private room was littered with sofas, a few tables and lit by the same fake candlelight as the rest of the basement. Gwen was sitting next to Jerry on one of the overstuffed chairs, holding a first aid kit, and Jerry swore as he tried to dig out Jack's bullet with a pair of cheap pliers. On the floor by their feet, Rhys could just make out the blonde head of some young girl. She could be the girl Ianto was with earlier. He couldn't tell if she was dead or not.

"Your fucking husband," Jerry snapped at Gwen, grabbing gauze from her. "And your… whatever the hell he is, that not-quite-human. They've just pissed me off now. I'm going to tear the fat one's spine out and use it to choke Jack Harkness. When he comes back, I'll do it again." Rhys peered at Gwen's face. He swore he thought he saw a flicker of something – anger or fear – drift across her features before returning to its current placidly calm state. There was a clatter as Jerry dislodged the bullet and it fell to the floor. "Then I'm going to get back boy toy and cut his throat just so he'll bleed out on that fucker. Might add yours to it too," Jerry added with a dark look at Gwen. "Not worth it. No matter how useful you are or great your tits look."

Rhys growled at that. Taking his wife and her mate prisoner was one thing, killing her boss was another, fucking with Rhys's night was bad, but rude comments about his wife's assets on top of it? Rhys Williams was having none of that.

Unfortunately, he hadn't meant to express his displeasure aloud. Jerry's head snapped up and Rhys struggled to keep from yelling out in surprise again. "Who's out there?" Jerry bellowed. "Come on in. No point dawdling."

Rhys pushed the door open with his foot and he scrambled for a weapon out of the duffel bag still dangling from his shoulder. He gripped the handle of something smooth and Rhys stepped forward into the light.

Jerry just smiled. "I swear, you Welsh. You just deliver yourselves to me. No wonder I can't resist you." Gwen's eyes flickered over to Rhys and his heart tugged. She was still in there.

"Right, well, you've got someone I care about," Rhys babbled. "Besides, you ran inside after you got hit. Not very impressive. Fairly easy to find, even."

"I wasn't running from you. I was inviting you in, little fly." Oh, Rhys hated this man …thing …alien. Any villain that made spider metaphors deserved to be shot just a little.

"Well, I came with bug killer," Rhys grinned, quite proud of his own comeback, and let the duffel bag drop off his shoulder to the ground as he pulled out his own weapon. He held it forward, determined to copy all of the heroic poses he'd seen from Jack, and faltered.

He didn't have a gun. Or a stake. Or a cool alien laser blaster. He had a torch. A battery operated, normal looking torch. Jerry chuckled and struggled to hold in a full blast of mocking laughter while looking full of himself. Rhys closed his eyes and his face flushed in embarrassment even as he braced his feet and prepared himself for a fight.

"You're kidding, right? Harkness must have sent you in as a decoy – or a sacrifice – while he got the other one away. Makes sense too. Take you both out and who will complain if she doesn't come home?"

Now Rhys was regretting taking off on Jack like that.

"Gwen, get rid of him." Jerry plopped down on the couch and pulled the blonde, definitely the one Ianto was with earlier, up into his lap. She was barely awake and didn't struggle as he petted her hair like one would a dog. Gwen, meanwhile, stood up stiffly, her eyes looking glassy.

"Gwen," Rhys began. "Don't do anything daft. Ianto's fine. He broke through. You can too. It's not hard. I've got things." Rhys kicked the bag at his feet, but didn't dare take his eyes off his wife to get a better weapon. What was he going to do anyway? It was Gwen. He loved her. He'd also seen how she'd handled the scum of the Rift that came through on her watch. It didn't create any good odds in Rhys's favor. "We can kill him. I can help you."

Gwen hesitated and looked at Jerry, sadness visibly marking her features, and he nodded and motioned toward Rhys again. "Do it, Gwen."

There was a tightening in Gwen's jaw and she took another step forward. Rhys was frozen. He looked at Gwen, he looked at Jerry's smirking face, and he couldn't move a muscle. When he saw Gwen's hand going for the waistband of her jeans it shocked him into action. As impractical as it was, Rhys knew what Gwen stored in her waistband. He rushed forward and tackled her to the ground, grunting out a quick "sorry, sweetheart" as they impacted. Gwen's gun clattered to the floor and she gasped from the wind being knocked out of her. Rhys tried to scramble away, but Gwen recovered too quickly. One of her legs swung up, the heel digging into Rhys's soft flesh, and she rolled to flip them over. She straddled Rhys and, efficiently and quickly, punched him in the jaw.

Rhys's vision flickered gray for a moment and he looked up, dazed, at Gwen's determined and set features. A part of him wanted to be proud of how hard his wife could punch, but the rest of him was protesting over how much that fucking hurt to give it much thought. Rhys blocked the next strike but still yelped in pain as Gwen's fist smashed against his the bone of his forearm. There would be a bruise there, definitely. As Rhys struggled to recover, Gwen's hands, with their long graceful fingers, wrapped around his throat. He felt her squeeze and gasped as he tried to pry away the vice like grip. Nothing was working. Gwen's fingers were digging too deeply into his flesh to get leverage. His vision swimming, Rhys looked up at Gwen, pleading, and was met with drugged and tear filled eyes. She was still in there. She was still in there and she didn't want to do this. That galvanized Rhys into action. He tried to portray an apology with his expression, hoped she could see it, and brought the torch down on her head. Her hands slackened, and she stared down at Rhys in shock before her eyes rolled up and she slumped forward on top of him.

As quickly he could, Rhys rolled out from underneath Gwen, and he prayed with all his being that she was okay. If she was okay, he also prayed she wouldn't flat out murder him for striking her in the head. Rhys scrambled to his feet, panting, and faced Jerry again.

Jerry clapped. The girl in his lap, her neck now bloodied, stared up at Rhys with an empty expression. He'd murdered that girl while Rhys fought with his wife for his life. The thought made a wave of nausea rise up in Rhys, and he barely pushed it down. Jerry shoved the body off of him and it flopped gracelessly to the floor.

"Impressive," Jerry said as he stood. "Lucky even." He took a step forward and inspected the cuffs of his sleeves, straightening them, before turning his attention back to Rhys. "So your wife won't kill you. That's fine. She would have done it a lot quicker than I will."

Jerry jumped toward Rhys, nails extended like some goth kid version of cat claws, and Rhys tried to move out of the way. Dumb luck was on Rhys's side as he stumbled over his own feet, the extra momentum of his fall allowing him to dodge and roll out of the way of Jerry's attack just in time. Rhys gasped, he'd hit his elbow hard on impact and his arm was now numb, and he flailed as he got up on his knees. He wouldn't be able to do this for long. Jerry had already recovered from his failed attack, and marched over to Rhys with an expression of fiery determination. He grabbed Rhys's shirt and hauled him upright to his feet.

"I am sick," Jerry hissed, "of fucking Wales, secret organizations, nosy neighbors and the damn Welsh." Jerry's hand slid up to grasp Rhys's throat. "Most of all, Rhys Williams, I am sick of you." Right as he began to squeeze, Rhys's panicked mind grasped for anything resembling an escape plan. He raised the torch, still clutched in his hand, to try and beat Jerry away before he snapped Rhys's neck, and accidentally hit the on switch. When the beam of light hit the skin of Jerry's face, Jerry shrieked an unearthly, horrific noise and released Rhys as he scrambled backwards.

As Jerry clutched his face, smoke pouring from the burn now visible there, Rhys stared down at the torch, dumbfounded. Then it hit him. UV Radiation. The torch had a UV bulb of some sort in it. Rhys had never heard of the like. "Bloody hell," Rhys gasped out through the pain and fire in his throat. "Jack really does get all of the best toys."

"Yeah," a voice drawled from the door. "And I don't really appreciate you running off with all of them." Rhys's head snapped toward the voice and saw Jack Harkness, without his coat and splattered in drying blood, gazing at him impassively. The sight was ghoulish.

"Jack! I found Jerry and Gwen," Rhys exclaimed.

"I see that. Why is she unconscious?"

He frowned, a little nervous about sharing his exploits. "Oh, I had to hit her. She was choking me."

"Keep the light on him," Jack ordered. Rhys fumbled with his torch and kept the beam of painful light on Jerry – who was now scrambling into a corner and trying to cover himself to hide from the beam. Meanwhile, as calm as a summer day, Jack strolled over to the forgotten duffel bag and slid the strap over his shoulder. He rummaged for a moment before pulling out a gun, similar to the one that probably lay forgotten in the alley, and "a-ha'd!" in triumph.

The safety clicked off and Jack strode -ho, swaggered, Rhys noted ruefully - toward Jerry. His stately form eventually blocked out Rhys's light as he stood imposingly over the cowering monster. "Now," Jack started. "I believe we were negotiating."

Jerry lowered his hands and narrowed his eyes. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing, really. I guess that means this isn't much of a negotiation."

"I only wanted to live! That's not a crime."

Jack thumbed the safety off. "It is when you start messing with my family." Without hesitating, Jack pulled the trigger and the special bullet ripped through Jerry's flesh like paper, embedding itself into the alien's heart.

A scream, so loud and angry that it made Rhys drop his torch and cover his ears, tore through the air. Jerry's body appeared to collapse in on itself. The flesh shriveled on the bones, the dark purplish blood bubbled and dried up in front of Rhys's eyes and eventually the whole corpse dissolved into a messy mix of goo and bone powder. Rhys lowered his hands from his ears and marveled at how Indiana Jones everything had just been. He exhaled, red faced and weary, and looked up at Jack. Jack was still holding onto the gun tightly, staring grimly at the pile of ash and sludge

"Is it over?" Rhys asked.

"Yeah," Jack answered with a nod. He thumbed the safety back on and slid the gun into the duffel bag. "Let's get your lady and get out of here."

Rhys exhaled and felt the adrenalin grind to halt. Wincing from using sore and overexerted muscles, he staggered over to Gwen. Rhys knelt, and sagged with relief when he saw Gwen's eyes moving beneath the lids. He brushed the fringe out of her face and cradled her into his arms. Rhys groaned again as he slid an arm under Gwen's knees and picked her up. He nearly fell before he managed to get a hold of his footing and, a little unsure of himself, carried Gwen toward the exit. It was painful, it was a burden, but damned if he was about to ask for help. Rhys spared a look at Jerry's last victim, his heart aching for her and her family, and headed toward the exit.

By the time Rhys made it upstairs, sweaty and nearing the final stages of exhaustion, the club was empty. He looked at Jack expectantly and Jack half-grinned. "I waved my plastic badge around and closed it down for the night." The grin fell from Jack's lips. "I was afraid I was going to walk downstairs to a much grimmer scene than Rhys Williams taking down a mythical Obyri with a flashlight. It was… illuminating, to say that least."

"Oh now, that was just awful."

Gwen stirred in Rhys's arms as they walked across the street to the SUV. Her mouth fell open and she flinched at the dull glow from the street lamps. One green eye opened and peered up at Rhys incredulously. "R-Rhys?"

"Hello, dear. Sleep well?"

She tried to move in Rhys's arms and seized up from what, Rhys imagined, was a killer headache. She blinked again. "Did you hit me, Rhys Williams?"

"Only a little," Rhys grimaced.

Jack was doing a horrible job of not showing amusement at Rhys's situation. Rhys glared and heard the automatic locks of the SUV click open. Jack lifted open the rear door of the vehicle and hopped inside. Just a step behind, Rhys sat Gwen gently on the lip of the storage area and leaned against the SUV himself. She curled up, her knees tucked close to her body, and pressed against her husband. She was clinging tightly to Rhys's shirt and neck, but she was mostly awake, if a little cold. Her gaze fell upon Ianto, curled up and pale under Jack's great coat and she gasped. "Ianto?"

Jack reached over and squeezed Gwen's ankle. "I think he's okay," he assured her. "He… got hurt. But he was awake earlier." Jack crawled closer to Ianto and pulled Ianto's head into his lap. "Ianto," he called quietly. "Ianto, need you to wake up now." He gently shook Ianto's shoulder and tapped his cheek until there was a response. Ianto quivered and then he squirmed in Jack's grip as weary blue eyes flickered open briefly. "Hey, come join us for a minute. I've got some medicine for you." Ianto shifted and pulled himself more awake.

"Gwen," he mumbled.

"Right here, sweetheart." Gwen's hand unclenched from Rhys's shirt and snaked out to squeeze Ianto's wrist. She nearly flinched away. "You're cold."

Jack was already going through the duffel bag that currently resting on Ianto's lap. "I've got something for that. For both of you." He pulled out the med kit Rhys had seen him pack earlier – the one filled with two syringes.

Rhys raised an eyebrow at him. "What's that then? Alien's dead. He's not going to bother them anymore."

"He is dead," Jack agreed. "His blood is still in there though. This will clear it up. Get them feeling less fatigued and get some warmth into the bones." Jack rubbed Ianto's arm comfortingly. "Help you replace some of the lost blood too."

It took just a few minutes, but Jack, with a clinical precision Rhys wasn't expecting, got both of them sanitized and injected with whatever weirdly gold serum was in the syringes. Rhys rubbed Gwen's arms briskly, trying to warm her up, and she yawned loudly. Jack looked up at Rhys with a raised eyebrow and carefully set an already sleeping Ianto back onto the SUV cargo compartment floor. Rhys returned his look when Gwen freed herself from his lap and crawled over to curl up next to Ianto. Jack lifted his coat to allow her to slide in close and curl her arms around Ianto's waist, before he wrapped them back up. Gwen blinked drowsily and yawned again.

"Sedative?" she inquired.

"Oh yeah," Jack confirmed. "Get some sleep."

Rhys had to look away from what came next. He pretended to be distracted by the staff and owners returning to The Mask, as Jack bent down and smoothed Gwen and Ianto's brows and gave them each a kiss. Rhys could let that gesture slide. It hadn't been just Rhys's wife threatened today; it'd been Jack's family as well. And Rhys had learned today one important lesson – do not fuck with Jack Harkness's people. Rhys walked away, giving Jack another moment to assure himself that his team was safe, and slid into the passenger side of the SUV.

When Jack finally joined him, he started the SUV and roared off without a word. They drove in silence for a few minutes before Rhys grew antsy.

"So, no lingering effects? Gwen's not going to go for my neck in the middle of the night, is she?"

"Nope. In fact, they won't even remember,"

Rhys turned to Jack in shock. "Wait, did you give them those memory pills? That's fucking –"

"No," Jack interrupted hastily. "No, I wouldn't do that. Well, except that one time. But I did it to me too. And that time with Gwen, but it was before I hired her –" Jack glanced at Rhys's disturbed expression and stopped his story. "Well, I didn't this time. The shot, when it gets rid of the blood, it'll wipe a lot of their memories of what they did. Most."

"Oh. Will Gwen remember me hitting her?"

"Don't know."

"Fuck."

"Hey," Jack laughed. "You got to be the big hero. I'll make sure to tell her about it when I check in tomorrow. I'll even not murder you for running off and leaving me in an alley."

Rhys breathed a sigh of relief.

"Gwen'll probably do it for me when I tell her. We'll make sure they get some rest and get them a few days off, hopefully."

Jack was still grinning at Rhys's discomfort and, days off or not, Rhys couldn't shake the feeling that Jack Harkness was a bastard.

* * *

><p>Twenty-four blissfully quiet hours later, Rhys Williams woke up without a hangover, but still feeling fairly sore from a mirage of bruises and abrasions he'd collected during his adventure. He felt pretty good actually, all things considered. He had the day off with his wife and he planned on lounging with her, half-naked and relaxed, in their big bed just to themselves. Rubbing the sleep and gunk off his face, he stretched out one arm lazily to grope the space next to him. Empty. Rhys bolted upright and patted the vacant patch next to him in a panic. "Gwen," he called out hoarsely.<p>

"Hm?" Rhys looked up, and leaning against the doorway was Gwen Cooper. Some color had returned to her features over a day of sleeping. She was wearing a button-up night gown that barely hit her mid-thighs and a pair of socks. Her hair was pulled back into a messy pile behind her head and she was sipping a cup of what smelled like spiced tea. She looked absolutely gorgeous to Rhys. One of the more beautiful times he'd ever seen her.

"I got worried for a moment," he admitted bashfully. Gwen shook her head as if to say 'oh you' and picked up another mug from their worn dresser. She set the two mugs of tea on Rhys's bedside table, crawled into bed and stretched out on top of him. They kissed, long and lingering, and Gwen tasted of tea and cinnamon toothpaste. Rhys sighed and his hand drifted up to rest on the small of Gwen's back. "Glad you're here," Rhys breathed out.

Gwen kissed the tip of Rhys's nose. "I'm here all day," she grinned and rolled over to her side of the bed. Rhys propped himself up against the headboard. "I'm feeling better," she continued. "Nearly 100%. Don't remember much though," she frowned. "When I spoke to him earlier, Jack told me you were a big hero."

Rhys nodded and took a sip of the tea Gwen had brought him. "Absolutely. Ready to be recruited," he answered sarcastically.

"I bet you'd be better at it than you think." Gwen smiled. "However, we do need to discuss ways to disable your wife without bashing her on the head." Gwen pointed at the dark purple bruise near her forehead and Rhys groaned. No day could ever be entirely perfect.

* * *

><p>Across town, Jack Harkness was sitting on a very angry young man's legs, grinning like a child and bouncing slightly.<p>

"Get off me, Jack," Ianto gritted out. "I'm fine. I want to make breakfast, take a shower, and move about some."

"Nope," Jack replied, bouncing again. "I told you. Two days of bed rest, sport."

Ianto flinched. "We've had this conversation. Multiple times. I seem to remember us going through a list of unacceptable names. No sport, no pumpkin or whatever else is going through that twisted brain of yours."

"It's just a pet name."

"I'm not a pet," Ianto huffed. "For fuck's sake, after this weekend I'd rather not be seen as a commodity for a while."

"Bet you let your girlfriends give you pet names." Jack reached forward tugged down the blanket to look at the bandages on Ianto's neck, near his collarbone. He was looking better. Still pale, but it could've been so much worse, and Jack had to push aside a wave of anxiety and "the could have been's" going through his mind.

Ianto swatted away Jack's concerned hands, unaware of Jack's more maudlin thoughts. "No, I gave them names. That's how it worked."

"Do you want to give me a name? I think I like darling."

"No, and my feet are falling asleep." Ianto tried to kick his foot to demonstrate and Jack held his ground.

"Promise you'll obey doctor's orders."

"You're not a doctor." When Jack didn't move, Ianto sighed. "Fine. Staying put. See me not moving? Going to continue that."

Jack slid off the bed. "Good. I'll make some breakfast, we'll get you showered and we'll find nice and relaxing things to fill your day."

Ianto rolled his eyes. "Whatever. You can fill me in on what happened – the bits I don't remember."

Jack's eyes light up devilishly. "You were pretty out of it yesterday, but you told me some things before the drug finished with you. Do you remember?"

Ianto shook his head. Jack remembered yesterday fairly well, so at least one of them did. Ianto had been feverish, exhausted and Jack kept wavering on whether or not to bring in outside medical attention. He'd sat next to Ianto's bed, worried and on edge, and listened to half remembered stories about Ianto and Gwen's lost time. It'd made Jack ill, angry, and he'd wanted to find some way to resurrect Jerry to kill the fucker all over again. No one hurt his people, no one, other than, sadly and probably, Jack himself. It stung that Jack couldn't prevent himself from doing harm to them in the future, but he could protect them now. He'd kill for them now. Jack shook his head quickly and put on a believable happy expression.

"Shame," Jack drawled out. "I was hoping you'd have more information on that whole 'I may or may not have slept with Gwen' confession you made."

Ianto's face turned bright red and he rolled to bury his face in the pillow. Jack Harkness was a bastard.


End file.
